Missing You
by Dean's Dirty Little Secret
Summary: After the events of "Meant to Be" Dean and Amie have gone their separate ways. It has been five very long months since they've been together and their lives are falling apart. The only thing they want in the world is each other, but can they fix what they believe is permanently broken? (Dean x OC, Mature content/smut, no slash) Reviews appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

_**Stuff I need to get out of the way!**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Supernatural, it is owned by the CW and Eric Kripke, etc., etc. It is merely what inspires me. I do own Amie and other original characters that appear in this story.**_

_**Spoilers: Story may have flashbacks to previous seasons and will follow the timeline, somewhat, of season 9. At this time Kevin still exists (though this may change). I plan to follow the Mark of Cain story line. TONS OF SPOILERS FOR SEASON 9! You've been warned!**_

_**Author's notes: This is the third story in what I call "The Saga of Dean and Amie." I personally believe you can read this story without reading the first two stories, but if you want to, I hope you enjoy them. Also, I did mess with the season 9 timeline a little bit for the purpose of my stories, but it's not really noticeable (unless stuff like that bothers you). I will update at least once a week. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.**_

**Missing You**

**Chapter One**

"Amie! Can I get another beer?" the deep, gravelly voice yelled from across the room.

A chill shot down her spine, the voice causing all kinds of emotions she hadn't expected to wash over her. It was just a bit too close to the voice of a certain someone she spent every damn day of her life trying not to think about.

Amie threw down the rag she was using and grabbed a clean glass from under the bar. "Jesus, Walt, keep your panties on," she yelled over her shoulder. She filled the glass, tipping it perfectly so there wasn't too much foam. She moved down the length of the bar and set the beer in front of one of her regular customers. "Walt, darling, cut down on the cigarettes, will ya?" she teased. He laughed and raised his glass, throwing a wink in her direction.

She took a deep breath and resumed cleaning. There were only about five customers left in the bar, three of them regulars that shut the place down most nights, some guy who'd roared in on a Harley about two hours ago and a woman Amie thought looked familiar, but she wasn't a regular customer. The woman was currently chatting up the guy with the Harley and Amie was pretty confident that they would be heading out together very soon. She glanced at the clock on the far wall. It was time to start shooing everyone out of the bar.

She'd been working at the tiny bar in Warren, Indiana for about five months. Once she'd left the bunker, she'd made her way to Butler, Pennsylvania where her Mini Cooper had been stashed in a storage unit for a year. Then she'd just drove until she got to the first place she was able to find a job. Nate, the bar owner, had been desperate to hire someone. The last woman he'd had working for him had moved out of the tiny town and he hadn't been able to find a replacement. Not only had he offered her a job, but he'd offered her the use of the small two bedroom apartment above the bar, rent-free. She'd accepted right away.

"Closing time folks," Amie called over the sound of the jukebox. She hated that damn thing. It was loaded with a bunch of Dean's favorite songs. It was like it had been put here just to torture her.

As she'd suspected, the biker and the woman paid their tab and left together. Amie saw them getting into a late model Honda and driving off, the Harley still parked in the lot at the side of the bar. She began working on getting her other customers out the door. Walt protested, just like he did every night, but he eventually drained the last of his beer, gave Amie another wink and made his way out.

Amie locked the deadbolt on the bar's front door, pulled the blinds over the windows and turned off the neon 'Open' sign. She made quick work of the few mundane closing tasks she still needed to do before locking the evening's earnings in the safe and heading up the narrow stairs to her apartment. She secured the door at the bottom of the stairs as well as her apartment door with the new locks she'd picked up at the hardware store in Indianapolis. Once she was inside the apartment, she checked the salt lines on all the windows and placed a new one in front of the door. Then and only then was she able to relax.

She went into one of the two small bedrooms, unbuttoning her flannel shirt as she walked. She tossed her clothes on the chair next to the window and grabbed some yoga pants and a t-shirt to wear to bed. She pulled the ponytail from her hair and ran a brush through it. Once she was comfortable, she went into the tiny kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. She never drank when she was working, not even when the occasional customer offered to buy her a drink. She stuck with water whenever she was down in the bar. She crossed to the couch, making a stop to grab the cell phone on the bookshelf before she sat down. She turned on the television, knowing she wouldn't find anything to watch at two in the morning, but she couldn't stand the silence, it gave her too much opportunity to think. Amie flipped through the few channels she had, finally settling on an old Nicholas Cage movie, one she'd seen many times before and didn't require her to think while she watched it.

She made herself comfortable on the old, worn out couch, pulling a blanket up over her legs and tucking a pillow behind her head so she could lie down. Since she'd starting working at the bar, she'd become a night owl, staying up most nights until the early hours of the morning. Unfortunately, she usually only slept for three or four hours most nights and that was only if the nightmares didn't come. She sipped her beer, wondering if she should switch to something stronger to help her sleep, like the vodka she had stashed in the freezer or the whiskey in the cupboard. She ran a hand over her face, contemplating her choices. It was a familiar game she played with herself. Drink herself into a stupor or stick with one beer. Which one she chose was usually dependent on how much she'd thought about Dean during the day. Today had actually been a mild day, so she figured she could get by with just the one beer, maybe two. As long as she chose not to torture herself by listening to the voicemail on the phone in her hand.

Amie hadn't been able to bring herself to turn off the cell phone she'd had when she'd been with Dean. She told herself she kept it just in case she found herself needing it. It hadn't rang but a few times in the last few months, though in the days following her departure from the bunker, it had rang twenty to thirty times a day. It was always Dean and she always ignored it. If ignoring it meant staring at the name and number on her screen and crying. As the days had turned into weeks, the calls from Dean had become fewer and fewer until they had eventually stopped. She didn't know whether she was relieved or upset that he had stopped trying to reach her. She also couldn't get rid of the phone because of the pictures she had on it. While she'd transferred copies of them to her laptop a while ago, deleting them from her phone made everything seem too final, too real.

She stared at the phone sitting next to her leg on the couch, knowing if she picked it up and looked at those pictures or listened to that voicemail, that she would need the vodka to get to sleep. She picked it up and ran her fingers over the buttons on the side, telling herself over and over to just go put it back on the shelf. Instead, she pushed and held the button that would turn it on. After a few seconds, the familiar swirling vortex appeared and the lock screen popped up. Amie slid her finger across the phone's screen to unlock it. Her breath caught in her throat when the picture of her and Dean she'd made her wallpaper popped up. It had been taken in happier times, before they knew about the prophecy and before Mary Grace had died. They'd been messing around with the phone, taking stupid pictures of each other. When she'd set it down on the table for a second, Sam had snatched it up and snapped a picture of her and Dean staring into each other's eyes, tiny smiles on both of their faces, their foreheads touching.

Before she realized what she was doing, Amie had pulled up her voicemail and punched in the code to listen to the one and only message she had.

_"Hey baby, it's me. I'll be back in a few hours and I think we should talk. I love you, honey. You have to know that, okay? I love you."_

The sound of Dean's deep voice cut straight through her. She absentmindedly brushed away the tears that had sprung to her eyes. She listened to the voicemail again as she got up from the couch and made her way to the kitchen. She pulled the bottle of vodka from the freezer and poured some into a small glass, swallowing it in one gulp, a grimace on her face. She carried the glass and bottle back to the couch and sat down. She figured since she'd already screwed herself for the evening, she might as well go all the way, so she opened the photo gallery on her phone and flipped to her favorite picture. It was also the one that ripped her heart from her chest every time she looked at it.

Dean was sleeping on a chair, his hair slightly tousled and his mouth open. Curled up on his chest was their daughter, Mary Grace. Her tiny fingers were wrapped around one of her Daddy's fingers. Her dark blonde hair, the same color as her father's, was sticking up everywhere and she too had her mouth slightly open. Dean had one hand resting on her back; it was so large it nearly engulfed her tiny body. Amie had taken the picture in the hospital, just two days before they had lost their daughter forever.

God, what had she done? She'd walked away from the only other person on this earth who understood how she felt and what she was going through. She couldn't believe how much she missed him; it had become a never ending ache in her soul. Nothing could fill the emptiness she felt.

She poured more alcohol into her glass and sat back on the couch, pulling the blanket over her lap again. She tucked the vodka bottle against her leg. She turned the volume up on the television as loud as she could and just let the tears fall, the explosions on the movie drowning out her sobs.

* * *

Amie woke to the sound of her phone ringing in the other room. She must have left it in the pocket of her jeans last night. She sat up slowly, her neck and back aching, a consequence of falling asleep on the lumpy couch. As soon as she was upright, the room started to spin and she felt her stomach clenching uncomfortable. She got to her feet and hurried to the bathroom. She took deep breaths, slowly in and out, as she splashed water on the back of her neck. Once she felt like she wouldn't throw up, she went into her room and pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. She had a new text message as well as a voicemail from Nate. The text simply asked where she was, causing her to check the time to see if she was late for something. When she couldn't think of anything she might be missing, she listened to the voicemail.

"Amie, it's Nate. When you get up, call me," her boss asked in his typical sheepish fashion.

She laughed to herself. Nate was a teddy bear, he didn't order anyone around; it wasn't in his nature, so he sounded more like he was begging her to call him than anything else. It was one of the many reasons Amie liked him—he wasn't pushy and overbearing, he was calm under just about any circumstance that might come along and he never hit on her. That last one had earned him more brownie points than he realized, considering the type of clientele the bar had and how often she did have some guy asking her out. She was grateful she didn't have to fend off advances from her boss too.

Amie dialed Nate's number. He picked up on the first ring.

"Amie!" Nate hollered into the phone. "I have been calling you for more than an hour. What the hell?"

"I was sleeping," she replied. "You know, that thing I never do." Nate was somewhat aware of the problems she had with nightmares and not sleeping, but he didn't know all of the reasons why. "Why are you calling me anyway? I don't work until later."

"That's actually why I'm calling. I was wondering if you could go down and open the bar," he asked. "Leeann called me and Jerry hasn't been home for a couple of days."

Jerry worked part time at the bar, opening two or three days a week and occasionally closing. He was dependable unless he and his wife were on the outs. "Did they get in another fight?" Amie inquired.

"She didn't say," Nate answered. "But he's supposed to open the bar and he's not around. Will you please do it?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Let me know if you hear from him." Amie hung up, gathered some clean clothes and hurried into the bathroom to clean up. She was ready within a half an hour. She quickly slipped on her favorite, worn out converse and went in search of her keys. She found them on the coffee table, next to her old cell phone, which she picked up and returned to the shelf. She checked her watch, muttering to herself under her breath about how she was late. She hurried down the stairs, locking the doors behind her as she went. Once she was in the bar, she went to the front door and unlocked it. She pulled open the blinds and turned on the sign she'd just turned off a few hours earlier.

Since she had closed the night before, Amie had very little to do to get the place open, so she turned on the television above the bar to a mid-morning news program out of Indianapolis. She only half-listened to it as she put away glasses and restocked the beer and other liquor. So when the story about the bodies found in and around Indianapolis came on, she missed a large chunk of it. She didn't really pay attention until she heard the words 'bodies drained of blood' come out of the newscaster's mouth.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, her attention immediately drawn to the television. She caught the tail end of the story—five dead bodies found in the areas around Indianapolis, all had been reported missing in the days prior to their discovery, their bodies were either completely drained or mostly drained of blood and a strange and unidentifiable toxin had been found during the autopsies.

Amie quickly turned off the television. Despite the fact that she strongly suspected she knew what was killing those people, she didn't want to hear anymore or even think about it. She was out of the hunting business, forever. There was no way she was getting involved. She pushed any thoughts of hunting and monsters out of her mind.

She was crouched behind the counter cleaning, trying to keep her mind off of the news story she'd just heard, when the bell over the door rang. She straightened, expecting one of her regular customers to be coming through the door. Instead, it was Nate, followed by a sheriff's deputy. He lifted a hand in a brief wave before sliding onto one of the empty barstools, the deputy taking a seat next to him.

"Amie, this is Deputy Wilhurst," Nate said. "Deputy, this is Amie Dalton. He's here about Jerry."

"Really?" Amie asked. "Is he okay?"

The deputy tipped his hat to her as way of greeting. "We found his vehicle abandoned on the outskirts of town. Considering the recent disappearances, we are rightly concerned," he explained. "You haven't heard from him, have you?"

"No, I haven't talked to him since three or four nights ago," she replied. "He worked until about 11, then left. He was supposed to close, but he asked me if I'd be willing to do it so he could take off."

"Did he leave alone?" Wilhurst inquired.

Amie played the evening back in her head. One of the benefits of her previous lifestyle was that it had trained her to be very observant. She saw everything and she usually remembered everything as well.

"He left the bar alone but I'm pretty sure he was meeting someone afterward," she offered.

"What makes you think that, ma'am?" he asked skeptically, his eyes rolling slightly.

Amie sighed inwardly, irritated at the officer's attitude. She was so tired of jerks like this guy thinking she was some stupid idiot who didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Well, she was about to set him straight.

"Jerry spent a large part of the evening waiting on a pretty blonde that was sitting right there," she said curtly, pointing to the exact barstool she remembered the woman sitting in. "An excessive amount of time to be honest with you. She was very chatty with him, kept calling him over, flirting with him a lot." She glanced at the deputy and was surprised to see he was actually listening to her, so she continued. "Jerry left at 11 and the blonde woman, she left about 10 minutes later, alone. I know Jerry didn't leave the lot right away either; he owns this old Ford pick-up that is noisy as hell. You can always hear it coming and going, and I didn't hear it pull out until _after_ the woman left. Right after she left, as a matter of fact." Amie crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

Deputy Wilhurst nodded. "That's actually very helpful, thank you." He seemed about to say something else, but his cell phone rang. He put up a finger, answering it as he took a few steps away, turning his back to Nate and Amie. He spoke for several minutes before hanging up and returning to stand at the bar. He looked very uncomfortable.

"Would one of you mind coming with me?" he asked, his voice quiet. "They think they may have found Jerry's body. His wife, she's not able to help us. She's, um… well, she's refusing to help actually. Says she doesn't believe it's her husband."

Amie looked at Nate, hoping he would volunteer to go so she wouldn't have to get any more involved than she already was. He looked slightly green and was shaking his head minutely. When she caught his eye, he cleared his throat.

"Do you mind going?" he asked sheepishly. "I just don't think I can." His eyes were begging Amie to agree.

She smiled at Nate, when really all she wanted to do was punch him. She turned to the deputy. "Could you give us a minute, please?" she said.

"I'll just wait outside," he replied, opening the door and stepping out.

"Come on, Nate, really? You know I don't want to get involved. Will you just go?" Amie implored.

"I'm sorry, I just can't," he said. "I've never been good with stuff like that. I'll puke before we even get near the body. Will you please go? I know Leeann would really appreciate it."

Amie glared at Nate, but he just continued smiling somewhat sheepishly at her. Finally, she nodded her agreement. She shoved her cell phone in her back pocket, grabbed her jacket and sunglasses then pushed through the swinging door at the end of the bar.

"You owe me, Nate," she muttered as she crossed the room and stepped outside.

* * *

Amie rode in silence with Deputy Wilhurst to a spot just outside of town where the body had been found. When she had met him outside the bar, he had explained that he was taking her there because they were planning to take the body into Indianapolis for an autopsy immediately after the identification.

As Wilhurst parked the squad car, Amie noticed several news vans also parked along the narrow road. When she stepped out of the car, the deputy stepped up next to her and led her past the cameras and under the crime scene tape to a small cluster of official looking people milling around a tarp-covered body. She stood to the side as he spoke to the group, eventually leading a tall, older man in a suit over to her.

"Ms. Dalton, I'm Detective Russ Lyons," he introduced himself, shaking her hand. "Thank you for coming out to do this. I know it's not how you wanted to spend your day. We'll try to make it as brief as possible." He gestured for her to follow him.

She followed him to the body and waited as he knelt next to it and pulled the tarp back. She sighed as soon as the face became visible. It was Jerry. Her eyes took in as much detail as possible—the unnatural pallor, obviously from lack of blood, the puncture wounds on the shoulder just under the shirt collar, and the emaciated look of the corpse. When Detective Lyons looked questioningly at her, she nodded.

"It's him," she whispered. Every instinct she had was screaming at her that this had been either a vetala or a vampire. Dammit, this was not good. She didn't want to be involved; she had done a great job of avoiding anything supernatural for the last five months, but this was someone she knew, someone she considered a friend and she was probably the only person in a two hundred mile radius who knew what was doing this and how to kill it.

Detective Lyons stood up and extended a hand to Amie. "Thank you for your help Ms. Dalton. Deputy Wilhurst will take you back to town," he said, gesturing for her to follow the deputy back to his car.

She smiled weakly at the detective as she shook his hand again. "Happy I could help," she replied. She turned and made her way back to the deputy's car, hoping the cameras pointed her direction did not find her interesting. She put her sunglasses on as she slid into the passenger seat and waited for the deputy. Amie hoped he wouldn't take too long because she wanted to get back to the bar. She had some research to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Dean filled his glass from the bottle of whiskey sitting on the bedside table. Nothing like a little hunter's helper to aid in the quest for knowledge. Or maybe it was aiding him in his quest to pass out before he started thinking about things he didn't want to think about again. He downed the glass in two swallows just as he heard a knock at his door. He set his laptop on the floor and the glass next to it.

"Yeah," he yelled as he tucked the bottle into the bottom drawer of the nightstand. No need for anybody to worry about his excessive drinking. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

Sam stuck his head in the door, but didn't come in all the way. "You got a minute?" he asked.

Dean nodded at his brother. "I guess, what's up?"

Sam stepped into the room, set his laptop on the table, swung a chair around and sat down. "I was doing some research, trying to see if anything had come up recently that we might find useful. I found a news story out of Indianapolis—five dead bodies, either almost drained or completely drained of blood. The people had been reported missing in the days prior to being found dead."

"Sounds like either a vampire or maybe vetala," Dean mumbled. He didn't understand why Sam was telling him about this, they had more pressing matters to concern themselves with, like Abaddon.

Sam opened his laptop to show a video cued up, full screen. "I thought you might want to see this." He pressed play.

Dean moved to a chair right in front of the computer, next to Sam, even though he still didn't understand why Sam wanted him to see this particular video. The story started with a news anchor in the studio speaking to one of those on-site reporters. Behind him was a large wooded area surrounded by crime scene tape. Dean could see a group of people standing at the bottom of a slight incline next to what was most likely a body under a tarp. He could hear the reporter yammering on and on, but he chose to ignore it, instead focusing on what he could see on the screen. Two people, a man and a woman, broke from the group and walked toward the body; the man crouched down and pulled back the tarp and looked questioningly at the woman. Dean squinted at the screen; there was something familiar there, he just couldn't put his finger on it. Dean saw the woman nod, then the man, most likely a detective, stood up and shook her hand as he said something to her. The camera operator had zoomed in slightly on the two of them, allowing Dean to catch a glimpse of the body now lying uncovered on the ground, though he wasn't able to see much. He saw the older man gesture away from him as a uniformed officer stepped into the camera's sight line. When the officer moved, Dean saw that the woman had turned to face the camera. It was Amie.

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes drank her in. She was a little thinner than he was used to and it looked like she had cut a few inches off of her long red hair. She was wearing a pair of cuffed jeans, black converse and a black leather jacket, unzipped. He could see a black and white plaid shirt under the jacket. She had a pained, almost pinched expression on her face, probably because of what she had just seen. Regardless, Dean thought she looked gorgeous. Her bright blue eyes were shifting constantly and he knew she was taking in her surroundings, assessing everything happening around her. She followed the uniformed officer back to his patrol car, not saying anything. As she was opening the door to the car, she put on a pair of sunglasses that had been propped on her head. When the jacket sleeve pulled up as she reached to grab them, Dean noticed a two-inch tattoo on the inside of her right wrist, though he couldn't make out exactly what it was. The camera chose that moment to cut away from her and focus on the on-site reporter, who began reiterating the information that had already been mentioned.

Sam reached over and hit the space bar, pausing the video. Dean sat staring at the screen, not able to put into words what he was thinking and feeling. It had been five months since he had seen Amie and every second of those five months had been pure hell. He missed her so much that it had become a physical pain, a constant dull ache in his chest, an ache he tried to kill with alcohol and hunting. She had left him after the death of their daughter, believing that it was the best thing she could do for the two of them. She couldn't accept Dean's need for revenge, claiming she couldn't sit back and watch him kill himself. So Dean had not only lost his daughter, but the woman he loved. It was a blow he had been unable to recover from. Seeing her for the first time in those long months felt like taking a sip of water after being lost in the desert.

He cleared his throat. "When did this video get posted?" he asked his brother.

"A couple of hours ago," Sam immediately replied. "The station is out of Indianapolis, but the video was shot on the outskirts of Warren, Indiana. There's less than 1300 people there. Guy who died is named Jerry Wallace, worked part-time at a local bar called Nate's. There is no mention of Amie in the story, just "an unknown woman" that came to identify the body in lieu of the family. I couldn't find anything about her anywhere."

"Of course not," Dean mumbled. "She doesn't want to be found. I've been looking for her for months with no leads. She knows how to disappear. You can bet she won't be happy about the news story. She'll probably take off again, go somewhere else." He stared off into space, his thoughts jumbled and incoherent as he tried to think.

"What do you want to do?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Dean replied. "I need to think." He ran a hand through his hair and over his face. What he really wanted to do was go directly to this town in Indiana and pound on every door until he found her. But he knew he wouldn't. He needed to approach this carefully, not impulsively, or Amie might slip through his fingers again, just like she had in Pennsylvania after she'd picked up her car. He had to be smart about this. "Will you send me that link?" he asked.

Sam turned his laptop around and emailed Dean the link to the video. Once he'd finished, he stood up and moved to the door. "Let me know what you decide," he told his older brother as he left the room.

Dean waited until Sam had pulled the door closed before picking his laptop up off of the floor. He grabbed his glass and pulled the whiskey bottle from the drawer, then settled himself on the bed. He opened his email and clicked on the link to the video. He let it load completely before fast forwarding to the part with Amie. Once she came on the screen, he watched every move she made. He was surprised he hadn't realized it was her sooner the first time he watched the video. Every movement was familiar to him—the way she walked, the subtle tilt of her hips as she stood with most of her weight on her right leg, the way she bounced on her toes when she was getting frustrated or impatient, how her left foot tapped minutely as she stood examining the body, the swing of her arms, even the way she flipped her hair off of her shoulder. He could tell she wasn't carrying any weapons because he didn't see the familiar bulge under her jacket anywhere and since she was wearing converse, she didn't have a weapon tucked into one of her boots where she normally kept them. The thought of her walking around unarmed and vulnerable made Dean cringe.

He paused the video and opened a new tab, googling the name of the bar the dead guy had worked at. It was smack ass in the middle of Warren, Indiana, right on the main street. It had a web site, but it didn't give much information other than the hours of operation and a brief background on the owner, Nathan Curtis. There were a few pictures of the interior of the bar and one of the exterior, none of which included any patrons or staff. Dean opened the pictures up in separate tabs so he could take a better look at them. The interior shots showed a simple every man's establishment—a square-shaped bar dominated the center of the room, surrounded by booths against two walls and a few tables. A big screen television hung above one end of the bar, with pool tables and dart boards taking up the remainder of the space. He saw a kitchen in the back of the room through a rectangular window behind the bar, along with a swinging door to the left of the window. Nothing in that picture was useful. The picture of the exterior showed that the bar was situated on a corner, with a tiny parking lot attached to it. It was on the bottom story of a two-story building. Dean could not tell what was on the second story. The front of the building was dominated by a huge window with the words "Nate's Bar" on it.

Dean was about to close the picture of the outside of the bar when a flash of blue in the parking lot caught his eye. A very familiar blue, one he was sure he had seen before. He manipulated the picture until he could get a better look at it. He was pretty damn sure it was the same color blue as Amie's Mini Cooper. And that certainly looked like the back of her little German import.

He grabbed his cell phone and dialed the number from the web site for Nate's Bar. On the third ring, the voice he'd longed to hear for the last five months answered, the simple "Nate's Bar, can I help you?" like music to his ear. He had to stop the 'Hey baby' from leaving his mouth because he knew if he talked, Amie would run. She'd been hiding from him for five months and if she found out he knew where she was, she'd go so deep he'd never find her. So instead of saying all the things he wanted to say to her, he hung up the phone.

He poured another drink, downed it quickly, and then went in search of Sam. He found him in his room with Shannon, a movie playing quietly on the television while the two bookworms sat with books on their laps reading. He poked his head in the door and knocked on the jamb.

"Hey," he said when they both looked up. "Pack your shit, we're going to Indiana in the morning."

* * *

Dean wasn't surprised that Sam's girlfriend, Shannon, had insisted on coming with them, but he was surprised when Sam agreed. He was just as protective of her as Dean had been with Amie. But ever since Sam had saved her from the demon possessing her, she couldn't stand to be away from him. So he'd walked around with a very pained and slightly pissed expression on his face for a half an hour before they left, while Shannon had bounced around with more enthusiasm than was necessary. Dean had walked away, shaking his head and laughing. Now, four hours into the twelve hour trip, he was wishing Sam had told her no. She'd been talking and asking questions non-stop for most of those four hours.

"Hey princess," Dean mumbled, watching Shannon in the rearview mirror. "How about a break from all the questions?"

"Dean!" Sam interjected. "Leave her alone." Despite his protest, he seemed almost relieved that Dean had said something.

Shannon giggled. "It's okay, Sam. I have been talking a lot." She leaned back in the seat. "I'm just really excited to be able to go on a hunt. But I'll stop, give you a break."

Sam turned and smiled at Shannon over his shoulder, then turned to his brother. "What exactly is your plan, Dean? Are you just going to stroll into the bar, throw Amie over your shoulder and force her to go back to the bunker with us?"

"I'm not going to take her anywhere, Sam. I just want to talk to her," he replied. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Shannon, but she had put on her headphones and was staring out the window. "I miss her, Sammy. A lot," he whispered. "I just need to see her, talk to her for a minute. Hear her voice, you know?"

"Yeah," Sam said. He glanced at Shannon over his shoulder. "I don't know how you've kept it together this long. I'd be going crazy."

Dean shrugged and shook his head. "I am going crazy. And I'm not keeping it together. Trust me." He reached over and turned up the radio, hoping it would discourage anymore talking. The thing was, he didn't know what he was going to do when he saw Amie. He would figure it out when they got to Indiana.

The remainder of the drive was quiet and uneventful. They stopped for lunch at a Biggerson's and then again later at a Gas-n-Sip to fill up. Dean was quiet; he just sat back and watched the interactions between Sam and Shannon or the scenery flash by. Neither of them gave him a difficult time or tried to get him to talk, for which he was very grateful.

They pulled into Warren around 8 p.m. Dean drove directly to Nate's Bar, which was apparently quite the place to be; the parking lot was full, as was every spot in front of the bar. He pulled around the corner and parked on a side street. Sam and Shannon climbed out of the car, but Dean hesitated for a few minutes. Maybe he had been too impulsive, coming here, thinking that seeing Amie or even talking to her would be a good idea. Maybe it would be better if they just stayed apart, despite the fact that he needed to be with her like he needed air to breathe.

"Dean, you coming?" Sam leaned into the car and asked.

He glanced out the door at his brother, then nodded. "Yeah, let's do this," he muttered, climbing from the car and slamming the Impala's door. He followed Sam and Shannon up the sidewalk, hanging back a few steps. He could hear music coming from the open bar door as they came around the corner. Dean glanced in the window, but he didn't see Amie. There was some guy behind the bar, maybe Nate, and an older woman waiting tables. Every seat at the bar was taken as were all of the tables, but a couple of the booths were empty, including one in the back corner.

Dean stepped through the open door and hurried to the farthest booth in the corner. He slid into the seat facing the rest of the bar while Sam and Shannon sat on the other side. Sam started whispering something in Shannon's ear while Dean scanned the bar, trying, but failing, to catch a glimpse of Amie.

The older woman, Deb according to her nametag, stopped in front of their table. "Evening folks, what can I get you?" she asked.

Dean looked up at her, using his best smile. "Evening ma'am. Could we get three beers? And do you serve food?"

Deb couldn't help but smile back. "Burgers, fries, the usual. I'll bring menus back with your drinks. Anything else, handsome?" she asked, winking at Dean.

"That's it for now, thanks," he laughed, shaking his head.

Shannon giggled as Deb walked away. "I swear to God you could charm the pants off of anyone, Dean Winchester." She tried to look past Sam at the rest of the bar. "Have you seen Amie yet?"

Dean shook his head just as Deb reappeared, drinks and menus in hand. She set the drinks down gingerly, then dropped the menus in front of them.

"It seems awful busy tonight, Deb. I certainly hope you're not the only one working," Dean said turning on the charm, hoping to find out if Amie was around. "Is your boss a slave-driver?"

"Nah," Deb laughed. "It's my nephew, Nathan. He's a sweetheart." She pointed over her shoulder to the man behind the bar. "There's plenty of us here. Jason's in the back, slinging the burgers and I think Amie's getting beer from the storage room. Like you said, busy night." She tapped the menu in front of Dean. "Burgers are great by the way. And we have pie, freshly made today. Call me when you're ready to order."

Dean's heart had nearly leapt out of his chest at the mention of Amie's name. He picked up the menu, but he didn't read it, instead he watched the swinging door next to the window carefully, hoping that was where she would come from. He watched it for several minutes and he was just beginning to think that maybe Deb was mistaken and Amie wasn't working when the swinging door came open and she stepped through. She was carrying a case of beer, the muscles in her arms straining, though it didn't look like she was having any trouble. She set it on the bar and began loading the beers into a refrigerator.

The guy bartending, Nate, came up behind Amie and put his hand in the small of her back as he leaned over to whisper in her ear. Dean heard her laugh from across the bar; it was her full-body-throw-her-head-back laugh. He felt himself move to get out of the booth, jealousy pushing every bit of common sense out of him. Sam stopped him with a hand to the arm.

"Dean," his brother warned, shaking his head. "Not a good idea."

Dean looked at his brother, fighting the need to get out of the booth and take the guy out with one punch. He took a couple of deep breaths than slid back to the corner, picked the menu up and held it in front of his face. He tried to concentrate on the words in front of him, but it wasn't exactly working. Nobody else was supposed to touch her like that or make her laugh like that. It would literally kill him if she had found someone new; he didn't think he'd be able to handle it.

Deb returned to their table, order pad in hand. Sam and Shannon each ordered a chicken caesar salad, while Dean ordered a cheeseburger and fries.

"Deb, darling, would you also bring me a whiskey? I don't think this beer is gonna cut it," he asked, a fake smile plastered on his face. "And pie, any kind will do." Deb nodded and hurried from the table.

The trio sat in awkward silence for several minutes until Shannon finally spoke up. "Are you just going to sit here? Or are you going to go say something to her?" She looked at Dean, waiting for him to answer her. When he didn't say anything, she sighed, obviously exasperated. "Look Dean, you've been moping around the bunker ever since she left. Anybody could see you're miserable. You're drinking yourself to death and taking stupid risks while you're hunting." Shannon reached out a hand and placed it on Dean's arm. "As much as I hate to say this, you two need each other, whether you like it or not. You and Amie, you're good together. But since she's convinced herself you need to be apart for some ridiculous reason, you need to convince her she's wrong."

Dean nodded, surprised that Shannon had been that observant, especially when he thought he'd been hiding it so well. He sometimes forgot about the mousy little librarian that had moved herself into the bunker and his brother's heart. She obviously paid attention to what was happening around her. He respected that and appreciated the fact that she was willing to be honest with him.

"Alright, sheesh, I'll go talk to her," he mumbled, trying not to smile. He slid to the side of the booth, encouraged by what Shannon had said. He scanned the bar, looking for Amie. It looked like he wouldn't even have to get up, she was headed directly for them with a food laden tray.

Amie was walking toward them, but she wasn't looking at their table or its occupants. As she weaved her way through the other bar patrons, she managed to speak to nearly everyone. Dean could hear her asking how someone was doing, if they needed a refill on their drink or just making some kind of small talk. By the time she got to their table, she actually had her back turned to them, responding to a shouted hello from the other side of the room.

"Alright folks, Deb got a bit busy, so I brought you your foo…." Her words trailed off as she turned to face them, shock making her blue eyes go wide. Her mouth hung open for a few seconds until she snapped it shut with an audible click.

"Dean," she whispered.

He smiled at her, his heart practically leaping into his throat at the sound of his name falling from her lips.

"Hey baby," he whispered back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

In that second when she first laid eyes on Dean, the world narrowed to just the two of them. All of the sounds around her seemed to mute and her eyes could see only him. He was smiling gently at her, a questioning look in his beautiful green eyes. His facial hair was longer than she was used to and his eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them, but it was _Dean_, the one person in this world she loved more than anything. God, she had missed him. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him how sorry she was, what a huge mistake it had been running away from him. But instead she stood there like an idiot, her mouth hanging open. When her heart started to beat again, she snapped her mouth closed.

"Dean," she whispered.

His smile widened, the familiar crinkles around his eyes deepening. "Hey baby," he whispered. He shifted in his seat, as if he had thought about getting up and changed his mind.

"Hi," she said before she glanced around the table. Shannon gave her a little wave from her spot behind Sam, who smiled sheepishly at her. Amie set the tray with their food down on the table, automatically putting the cheeseburger and pie in front of Dean and the salads in front of the other two. She heard Dean chuckle under his breath.

Her mind raced. She needed to think, to take a few minutes to gather her thoughts. "Look, it's pretty busy right now," Amie explained, tucking the tray under her arm. "I'll be back when it slows down." She looked at Dean. "I promise."

He nodded reluctantly, though he looked like he didn't believe her. She certainly couldn't blame him. He probably thought she was going to run off again.

She hurried back to the bar, quickly stepping behind it. She dropped the tray on the counter next to Nate and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "I need a couple of minutes," she said. "I'm taking a break." Without waiting for an answer from her boss, she slipped through the swinging door, crossed the kitchen and stepped into the back alley.

Amie leaned against the wall trying to catch her breath. Her heart was racing. She couldn't believe Dean had found her. After five months of hiding from him, he had finally caught up with her. He'd probably seen her on TV, her face had been plastered all over the local stations. It had probably popped up on the net and one of the boys had stumbled onto it. She'd contemplated leaving after it had aired, but for some reason she hadn't. Maybe she'd hoped Dean would find her.

Now that he was here, she didn't know what to do. She could leave right now; sneak up the back stairs, grab her stuff, get in her car and just take off. She bent over, put her hands on her knees and took several deep breaths. But was that really what she wanted? Or did she want to stay and see what happened? There was always the chance that her and Dean could try to get back some of what they had lost. She loved Dean and there really wasn't anything she wanted more than him. Truth was, the last few weeks, she'd been considering going back. Back to him, which was where she belonged. Maybe he felt the same way. Or maybe he hated her and he'd just come here for closure. God knows he had every right.

One thing she did know was that she couldn't hide out here all night. Running also wasn't an option; she'd already run away from him once and it had been a huge mistake. She didn't want to run anymore. She straightened up and stepped away from the wall. She adjusted her apron and smoothed her hair away from her face. She'd go in, finish her shift and see how things went.

Amie pushed through the swinging door and bumped right into Nate. His hands immediately went to her waist to keep her from falling as she stumbled backward.

"Shit," she laughed. "Sorry!"

Nate laughed along with her. He took a step back. "You okay?"

"Yeah, no harm, no foul," she said.

Nate shook his head. "That's not what I meant," he said. "I saw you take off out the back. What the hell is going on?"

Amie sighed. "Really, Nate, I'm good. I swear. Just got taken by surprise, that's all." She gestured to the customers in the bar. "Now, if you're finished being nosy, can I get to work? In case you hadn't noticed, we're pretty busy."

She stepped around Nate, grabbed a tray of drinks and checked the ticket to see what table they went to. For the next couple of hours she kept herself occupied making and serving drinks. Every now and then she'd glance over at Dean, only to see him watching her intently.

She was standing at the bar, waiting for Nate to grab her a couple of beers when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Sam standing at her elbow. He was grinning and he pulled Amie into a tight hug, holding her for a few seconds before he released her.

"I missed you," he said quietly. "Not nearly as much as Dean missed you, but I did miss you."

"God, it's good to see you," Amie smiled.

"Really? You're not mad at us?" he asked.

"No, definitely not. I'm actually really glad to see you. All of you," Amie replied.

Sam grinned. "Even Dean?" he inquired.

"Especially Dean," Amie whispered.

Just then Nate came over with the beers she had been waiting on. Sam grinned and walked back to their table. Amie grabbed the beers, but when she turned to walk away, Nate put a hand on her arm.

"Why don't I close for you tonight? Those guys are obviously friends of yours, right?" he said, gesturing over to the booth where the boys and Shannon were sitting. "Finish up and you're done. Aunt Deb and I can handle it. Cool?"

"Cool," she muttered. "Thanks." Amie quickly delivered the two beers to the customers playing pool before she slid off her apron and stuffed it under the counter. She made her way down the short hallway to the bathroom where she quickly washed her hands and checked her face in the mirror. Honestly, she looked like crap. She looked like she hadn't slept in a month, which was actually close to accurate, and even she had to admit she was too thin. She splashed some water on her face, then dried her hands. Time to face the music.

As she walked past the bar, she grabbed a beer, then made her way to the booth where Dean was sitting. Seeing the empty seat next to him reminded her of the day he'd finally admitted he might have feelings for her. Sort of. They'd spent an awkward, sexually-charged morning crammed into a booth side by side before Dean had pulled her into her motel room and asked her to stay with him and see where they could take whatever it was they had going on between them. She was feeling a crazy sense of déjà vu.

"Hey," she said when she finally got to the table. "Can I join you?"

Dean nodded and moved over, patting the seat beside him. She slid into the booth, keeping herself close to the edge of the seat and leaving about a foot of space between herself and Dean.

The entire table sat quietly and awkwardly for a few minutes until Sam stood up, pulling Shannon with him. "Come on, angel, let's go play some pool," he mumbled.

Amie turned to face Dean after Sam and Shannon made their escape. He was sitting with his back against the wall, one arm on the back of the seat and the other resting on the table. He didn't say anything, just watched her, occasionally sipping his drink.

She cleared her throat and picked at the label on her beer bottle. "Umm, so how have you been?" she asked.

"Shitty," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Next question."

Amie looked at the table, tracing a finger through the rings of liquid on the table. She totally deserved that. "Fair enough," she said. "Okay, did you find Abaddon? Or Malachi?"

"Nope," Dean said. "Still looking." He sighed heavily, as if her questions were painful for him to answer.

"Look, I know I deserve every bit of…contempt…or whatever it is you have for me, but are all of your answers going to be short and bitchy?" she asked. "I'm trying, okay? At least I'm sitting here trying." She felt the very familiar tightening in her throat that usually meant she was going to cry. "Maybe I should just go." She brought her beer to her mouth and downed half of it in a couple of swallows, fully prepared to get up and walk away.

Dean ran his hand through his hair and over his face. He set his drink down and reached over to stroke a finger across the back of her hand. He took it and turned it so her palm was facing up. He ran his finger across the infinity symbol with two hearts she'd had tattooed on her wrist a couple of months ago. She felt goose bumps rise on her skin where his finger was tracing.

"What's this?" he asked quietly, still rubbing it gently with his finger.

Amie shrugged, knowing the tears would come for sure now. "For Mary Grace and Joseph. Just, you know, something I needed to do." She felt a tear slip from the corner of her eye.

Dean reached up and wiped the tear away with his thumb, cupping her face in his large, strong hand. He slid the short distance across the seat until his leg was resting against hers and his face was mere inches from hers. Amie stared at his lips, unable to meet his eyes. She didn't know what to say to him to make him understand that she knew leaving him had been a mistake and she was sorry for it. She didn't know how to tell him that she would do whatever it took to fix it, to fix them, even though she wasn't sure they could be fixed. She wasn't even sure Dean could forgive her for what she'd done. So she sat there instead, feeling like an idiot.

"Amie, look at me," he said, his deep voice strained.

She looked up slowly, almost afraid of what she would see. She was terrified she wouldn't see anything, just cold, empty, emerald green eyes staring into her destroyed soul. She knew it would break her forever. But when her eyes met Dean's, she saw the one thing she hadn't expected to see. Forgiveness. In that moment, she knew that he forgave her for leaving him. He might not forget it and they might never get back to where they had once been, but she knew he had forgiven her.

Dean eased closer and lightly brushed his lips across hers, then he leaned his forehead against hers, his thumb caressing her cheek. She leaned her face into his palm, which he must have taken as a sign of encouragement, because he returned his lips to hers, kissing her gently. His tongue flicked out and grazed her lower lip, causing chills to shoot down her spine and heat to pool in her stomach. Amie opened her mouth slightly, granting him entrance. He slowly slid his tongue into her mouth, hesitating as if he expected her to deny him. Instead, she reached up and wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling him closer, encouraging him.

Dean wrapped his other arm around her waist, crushing her against him, a low growl leaving his throat. His fingers tangled in her hair and his tongue slammed into her mouth, tasting her, devouring her. He kissed her like he was trying to consume her, to make her a part of him and Amie was more than willing to let him.

A loud, crashing sound snapped them back to reality. Dean's hand immediately went to the gun she knew was inside his jacket pocket. She swung around, trying to see what had happened. Deb was on the other side of the room, picking up several glasses and bottles that must have fallen to the floor, an embarrassed grin on her face.

Amie turned back around to see Dean slipping his gun back into his pocket. He grinned at her and shrugged as he wrapped a hand around the back of her neck. She smiled at him and took his other hand, intertwining her fingers with his. She stared into his eyes for the briefest of seconds before speaking.

"I'm sorry, Dean," she finally whispered.

"I know," he replied, kissing her on the forehead. "I know."

* * *

When the bar's patrons began to leave for the night and the noise level began to diminish, Amie suggested they move upstairs to her apartment. Dean agreed and went to retrieve Sam and Shannon from the lively game of pool they were involved in. Amie waited at the bar.

"Hey kiddo, you okay?" she heard from behind her.

She turned to see Nate standing on the other side of the bar, wiping off the counter. "Um, yeah, why do you ask?" she questioned.

"You've seemed a little off tonight. Does it have anything to do with that grumpy looking guy with the scowl on his face?" he asked, nodding in Dean's direction.

Amie smiled, grateful that he cared enough to ask. "Actually, yes. But I'm good, I promise. He's an old friend and he's important to me." She looked at her hands, noticing for the first time that she was twisting them in front of her. "He's really important to me."

"Okay, as long as you're good," Nate said. "Hug it out?"

She laughed and stepped up on the side of one of the stools so she could reach across the bar to hug Nate. She had really appreciated his friendship the last few months.

Amie stepped down from the stool and backed up, right into Dean. She glanced up to see him glaring at Nate, who just looked confused. She slipped her hand into Dean's and tugged him toward the door that went upstairs to her apartment. "Later, Nate," she said over her shoulder.

She pulled Dean through the door and shut it behind her. "Where are Sam and Shannon?" she asked.

"They're coming. Shannon was two shots away from winning some serious cash on a game of pool," he explained, though he was still staring out the door's tiny window at Nate behind the bar. He looked pissed.

"Dean?" she said, yanking his arm to get his attention. "What is it?"

He turned to her, his expression a combination of worry and anger. "Are you and that Nate guy together?" he asked.

"What?" she spat out. She stopped and took a deep breath, trying to control her temper. "No, I am not _with_ Nate. He's my friend. Jesus Christ." She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it off of her face. "Do you really think so little of me that you think I'd fuck around just months after leaving you? I didn't leave you because I stopped loving you, I left because I couldn't watch the man I love destroy himself. Not when I'd already lost my daughter. God damn it!" She stepped back, unintentionally moving away from Dean in her anger.

Dean stepped toward Amie, his arms out as if he meant to grab her, but just then Sam and Shannon came through the door. Sam turned to his brother. "Shannon just won $600 at pool. Looks like all those lessons have paid off."

Amie saw Dean glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but she was trying her hardest not to look at him. He wrapped an arm around Shannon's shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. "Nicely done, princess," he said.

Amie dug her key out of her front pocket and started up the narrow stairs to her apartment. The boys and Shannon followed close behind. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. She hurried around the room, turning on lights. When she'd finished, she pulled out one of the two chairs at the tiny kitchen table and sat down.

"Did you guys find a motel yet?" she asked. "There's only a couple in town, small ones." When Sam shook his head, she decided to suggest what she'd been thinking all night.

"You could stay here, if you want. I've got an extra bedroom with a double bed. I could sleep on the couch." She stared down at her hands twisting in her lap again. She tried to stop them before they gave away how nervous she was. "My guess is that you guys are here about what's been killing people in the area. Right?"

Dean stood at the kitchen table, just feet away from her, looking through the papers and notes she had there. "You've been busy," he muttered. "Hunting?"

"No," Amie replied. "Research. That's it, just research. Jerry was my friend and I am probably the only person around who knew what killed him. I was just trying to figure it out, that's all."

"Any leads?" he asked.

"Not yet," she sighed, shaking her head. "I think that they're female, there is definitely at least two of them and they are staying outside of Indianapolis, using small bars like this one to pick up guys. After seeing Jerry's body yesterday, I'm pretty sure it's either a vetala or a vampire. That's about all I know." She shrugged.

"Okay, that's good," Dean said. "Tomorrow we'll go see the detective in charge, hit up the morgue, and see what other information we can get. We'll find them."

Amie saw Shannon stifle a yawn and Sam looked pretty tired as well. She stood up and gestured to one of the closed bedroom doors. Shannon got up and followed her. Amie pushed the door open and Shannon slid past her, going immediately to the bed. She kicked her shoes off and laid down.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "I'm exhausted. I don't know how the boys do this or even how you did it. Running on three or four hours of sleep sucks." She closed her eyes. "Tell Sam I'm going to sleep." She rolled to her side and pulled the pillow over her head.

Amie closed the door, leaving it open just a crack. She smacked Sam on the back of the head as she passed him where he sat in the recliner. "What were you thinking, bringing her along?" she said quietly.

Dean laughed and threw himself down on the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table. "That's what I was thinking, I just didn't want to say it." He crossed his arms and waited for Sam to answer.

"She's ready," he said after a couple of minutes, though he didn't sound very sure of himself. "While you've been gone for the last five months, she's been training. It was time. I figured this one would be a good case to ease her in. And I could always try to leave her with you, keep her out of danger." He pushed himself to his feet. "I'm gonna get our crap out of the car. C'mon, Dean."

Dean sighed, but he stood up. He was almost to the door when he stopped and came back to stand in front of Amie, who was leaning against the kitchen counter. He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to him, kissing her hard on the mouth.

"When I get back, you and me are gonna have a talk, got it?" he growled.

All Amie could do was nod her head. Dean returned the nod then followed his brother from the room. She was actually taken aback by what Dean had said. Talking was not exactly his favorite thing, so for him to make a point of telling her they would be talking was a monumental step.

While she waited for them to get back from the car, she went into her room, turned on the dim bedside lamp and changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. She washed her face and brushed out her hair, putting it in a loose braid. When she heard the apartment door open, she stepped out of the bedroom.

Dean had dropped his bag by the end of the couch. He took off his jacket and the flannel button up he was wearing, throwing them over the back of the couch before sitting down. Sam continued on to the extra bedroom, waving good night as he quietly shut the door. Dean waited until Sam was gone, then he gestured to Amie, indicating she should come sit by him.

She crossed the room and slid onto the end of the couch. She picked up one of the pillows and hugged it to her chest so she wouldn't sit wringing her hands in her lap. It was a dead giveaway that she was nervous and Dean knew to look for it.

He didn't look at her at first, just stared at the blank television screen, rubbing his forehead. Amie could tell he was searching for what he wanted to say and it wasn't coming easy. She waited, gnawing at her bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "About that whole thing with Nate. It was the jealousy talking. I haven't seen you or…or…touched you in what seems like forever and when I saw him hug you, I just sort of lost it. You know, my over-the-top, overprotective, don't-fucking-touch-my-woman attitude took over."

"Your woman," Amie snorted. "Nice."

Dean rolled his eyes, a slight smile on his face. "That is what you'd focus on, of course." He slid closer to her, grabbed her leg and pulled her next to him, draping her legs over his lap, wrapping one arm around her waist and resting the other on her leg. He rubbed his thumb over her bare thigh. "Why did you leave me?" he whispered.

Amie could hear the pain in his voice. She was ashamed to admit that while she had been wallowing in her own misery, consumed with grief over their loss, she had forgotten that Dean had been going through the same thing. Not to mention dealing with the unknown consequences of receiving the Mark of Cain, the hunt for Abaddon and the added bonus of the woman he loved abandoning him when he needed her most. She'd been selfish and unreasonable.

"I…okay…um…shit, nothing like starting with the hardest question," she complained. She glanced at him and knew he wasn't in the mood for her typical smart ass answers. She took a deep breath and tried again. "I thought I was doing the right thing. At the time, in my head, as screwed up as it was, I thought you were better off without me. I knew I couldn't stop your incessant need for revenge, but if I stayed, I would be a distraction. And I didn't want to hunt. So if I left, then you could do what you needed to do, without me." She took his hand, absentmindedly tracing the various cuts and scrapes, the lines and scars covering it. "I never wanted you to think that I stopped loving you, because I never did. God, I still love you, more than anything." She dropped her lips to his hand, lightly kissing the knuckles.

Dean rested his lips against the top of her head. "I need you, Amie. I don't want to do this alone. Will you at least think about coming back to the bunker with me, please? I've lost too much already. I just want you with me."

Amie nodded her head. "I'll think about it, but I need a day or two. I don't want to make a decision we'll both regret and then we both end up hurt because of it. I need to know it's what I want, what I'm ready to do. It needs to be what's best for both of us." She hated putting Dean off for any amount of time, but she didn't want to go running back based on the fact that she was emotional over seeing him. It needed to be the right thing to do at the right time. Hopefully he could understand that.

She looked up at him and put a hand to his face, her thumb tracing his full pink lips. "Kiss me," she whispered as she pulled him to her. Right now, she just wanted to feel him touching her and kissing her. Everything else could wait.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Dean pulled Amie against him, the need to touch her, to kiss her, practically overwhelming him. He grabbed her braid and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. He ran his tongue down her neck, over the barely noticeable scar left by the werewolf until he reached the space where her neck met her shoulder. He kissed her, sucking and nipping lightly across her collarbone. He ran his hand up her bare leg until he reached the bottom edge of her shorts, stopping short of sliding his fingers under them.

He pushed Amie away from him so he could look in her eyes. "I don't want to ask you to do something you aren't ready to do," he said quietly. "So I'll give you time to decide. But I get to do everything in my power to persuade you to come back with me. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," she replied breathlessly.

Dean pushed her legs off of his lap and stood up. "By the way, neither one of us is sleeping on the couch," he growled. He scooped her up and crossed the small living room to her bedroom. He kept his lips moving against hers all the way, even as he kicked the door shut. He carried her across the room, lying her carefully on the bed.

He stretched out next to her, his lips drawn to hers like metal to a magnet. He moved gently and slowly, almost tentatively; it had been so long since he had touched this woman, since he had made love to her, that he had every intention of taking his time and making this last. He put his hands in her hair, loosening her braid until her hair was framing her face.

"You cut your hair," he whispered, his lips moving to her ear and sucking gently on the lobe.

"It was getting too long," she laughed breathily.

"No such thing," he muttered as he slid his hand just under the edge of her shirt, tracing small circles on her stomach with his thumb as he gripped her hip. He continued his assault on her earlobes, making her squirm.

Dean pushed Amie's shirt up and moved his attentions to her stomach, kissing a line along the top edge of her shorts. He ran his tongue up to her belly button, lightly dipping it in and swirling it around before he pushed her shirt up with one hand and let his mouth taste the skin between her belly button and her ribs. He kissed his way slowly to her breast, pulling the nipple into his mouth, gently suckling the tender flesh. He took the other breast in his hand, paying it equal attention. Amie sighed and wrapped her hands around his head, pulling him against her.

Dean worked his way up to her mouth, capturing her lower lip and sucking it greedily into his mouth. God, she tasted like heaven. He pulled her tank top over her head, then quickly brought his lips back to hers. He moved his hands gently over her soft skin, thrilled at the feel of Amie's body under his.

Amie pushed his t-shirt up and over his head then pressed herself against him, sliding one leg over his hip. Dean moaned as she pushed herself against the erection straining under his jeans, his hips involuntarily surging forward. He gently moved his hand under her shorts, his fingertips brushing her warm center. Her breath quickened and her kisses became more urgent. He slipped a finger between her folds, pressing his thumb against her most sensitive area. Amie's fingers fumbled with the button on his jeans, finally releasing it and sliding the zipper down, her hand grazing him slowly.

"Dean," she mumbled, her words swallowed by his kisses.

"Hmm?" he responded, his lips and hands continuing their exploration of her body.

"You're wearing too many clothes," she replied, her words rushed and breathless.

Dean swore under his breath, stood up and stripped off his clothes. Amie removed the rest of hers as well. He returned to the bed, his lips and hands immediately returning to their previous endeavors. Dean felt the smile on Amie's face as he kissed her.

He pulled away and looked in her beautiful blue eyes. "Why are you smiling?" he teased.

She shrugged and ran her fingers through his hair. "Because you're here with me," she answered. "I'm just…relieved." The smile on her face faded, replaced with worry lines. "I was sure you hated me."

"I could never hate you," he whispered. "Why would you think that?" He brushed the hair away from her neck and kissed along the bottom of her jaw.

"A lot of reasons. Christ, look at all of the things I've managed to fuck up over the last year. I would completely understand if you did hate me," she answered. She buried her face against his shoulder.

Dean sighed, not quite sure what he wanted to say. Of all the emotions he'd felt over the last few months, hatred was the one he reserved for the angels and demons responsible for the death of his daughter; he had never hated Amie. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Words eluded him, as they often did during the times he needed them most. So instead, he took her chin with his hand, bringing her lips to his mouth so he could try to show her how he felt. He slid his hands down her bare back, cupping her bottom and pulling her against him. He could feel every inch of her naked skin against his, her breasts against his chest, the heat at her center drawing him in. He rolled her to her back and settled himself between her thighs. Moving slowly and carefully, knowing how long it had been since they were together, Dean entered her. Amie opened herself to him, urging him forward with a hand on his back. She moaned, the sound like a soft purr in his ear.

Dean balanced himself above Amie on his forearms and thrust his hips forward, his eyes on her face. She was biting her lower lip and her eyes were half-lidded and filled with lust. Just looking at her increased his excitement tenfold. He began moving with a practiced ease, taking his cues from the movement of Amie's body beneath his. He slid an arm under her, his hand gripping her neck as he pumped gently and deliberately into her welcoming warmth. She stretched up and kissed him, coaxing his mouth open with her tongue, its thrusts matching the rhythm their bodies had fallen into so easily. It was like they had never been apart; they instinctually knew how to move and exactly what to do to enflame each other's desires and needs.

Dean had no idea how long they made love, but it felt like hours, yet it seemed to be over far too soon. Satiated, they had finally collapsed in each other's arms, their bodies close in the confines of the tiny bed. He kept Amie tucked tight against his side; he couldn't get enough of her. His hands constantly moved over her body as his lips rained gentle kisses over her face, neck and shoulders. When he finally fell asleep, it was with his face buried in her hair and her scent filling his nose.

* * *

"What are you doing? Snooping?" Sam joked.

Dean jumped, the can of coffee he was holding slipping out of his hand and hitting the counter. "Jesus Christ, Sam!" He turned around, glaring at his brother. "You're lucky Amie is asleep. Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam shot back. He sat at the table and started rifling through Amie's research. "I take it you had a good night?" he asked.

Dean went back to making coffee. "What makes you say that?" he questioned innocently.

Sam looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Seriously?" He laughed. "Do you think I'm completely clueless? Let's see, Amie said she was going to sleep on the couch, which she obviously didn't—no blankets or pillows, or her for that matter. You didn't either, again, no stuff on the couch. You seem to be missing some clothes." He pointed to Dean's lack of a shirt and bare feet. "Those aren't out here either. Oh, and you know Amie's still asleep." He shrugged, a smirk on his face.

"Dude, you got me," Dean laughed.

"Whoa, and you're laughing. You definitely had a good night," Sam remarked. "So, the million dollar question is will she come back with us or not?"

Dean shrugged. "She's thinking about it. Wants a couple of days. I think she wants to, but she doesn't want to make any rash decisions. I agreed to give her time to decide, but she had to agree to let me do whatever it takes to persuade her." He wiggled an eyebrow at his brother. "I can be very persuasive."

Sam laughed as he returned to examining the research on the table. He indicated the papers in his hand. "Have you looked through this stuff? She's good, really good. She's got some solid leads here."

Dean slid into the only other chair at the table and took the papers from Sam's hands. He read through several of the pages, impressed with what Amie had found. All of her research, in combination with what he and Sam could come up with later would probably help them find the vetalas quickly. "I already knew she was good," he said, setting the papers down and leaning back in the chair.

"Yeah, I bet," Sam mumbled.

Dean punched his brother on the arm as he got up to check on the coffee. Seeing that it was done, he made two cups and walked out of the tiny kitchen. He balanced both cups in one hand and opened Amie's bedroom door with the other. She was curled on her side, asleep. She had the blanket pulled up to her chin and her hair was sticking up in several spots. He was pretty sure she hadn't moved since he got up and left the room. He set the cups of coffee on the dresser before slipping into the bed with her. He wrapped himself around her still naked body and kissed her cheek.

Amie stretched and opened one eye, looking up at Dean. She smiled shyly at him. "Hi," she mumbled.

"Hey baby," he grinned. He kissed her cheek again. "I made you coffee."

"Really?" She sat up and looked around the room. "What time is it?" she inquired.

Dean glanced at his watch. "Seven," he replied. "Too early for you?"

Amie shook her head. "No, I just…I don't know…I slept. And it was for longer than a couple of hours. That hasn't happened in…" she trailed off, glancing at Dean. "Well, it hasn't happened since I left the bunker."

Dean pulled her back down next to him. "I haven't slept well since you left," he said, kissing the end of her nose. "Not unless I drank until I passed out. But last night…well, let's just say I can't sleep without you pressed up against me." He kissed her again, smoothing her hair back from her face.

Amie snuggled up to him, her cheek resting on his bare chest. Dean heard her sigh. He rested his cheek on the top of her head.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I missed this. You and me. Even before Mary Grace was born, I missed this. So much changed when I got pregnant, but nothing changed more than the two of us. Our lives became about nothing more than the prophecy and protecting our baby. Our destiny got in the way of us being a family, being any kind of normal. It got in the way of us," she explained.

"Hunters don't have normal lives, baby," he responded. "We never will. Our lives are fucked up from the word go."

"I know," she replied. "Which is why I never should have forced you into having a baby. It's my fault, all of it."

"You didn't _force_ me into anything," he sighed, exasperated. "I make my own decisions. If I hadn't wanted to be a father, I wouldn't have agreed. Prophecy or destiny be damned. Jesus Christ, is that really what you think? You think you somehow coerced me into having a baby and then everything that happened after that is your fault?"

Amie nodded against his chest. Dean could tell she had started to cry, he could feel the dampness on his chest and the slight shaking of her body. He should have known she would try to put all of this on herself. He rolled his eyes, even though he knew she couldn't see him. He ran his hand up and down her bare back, trying to soothe her.

"You're being ridiculous, baby. This isn't your fault or even mine for that matter. It is what it is," he murmured. "We lost our daughter because a bunch of angels and demons thought they could take her from us. There wasn't anything either of us could have done differently. God, I wish there was."

"If we hadn't had her, we never would have lost her," Amie sobbed quietly. "I never should have had her."

Dean hugged her closer, his lips against her forehead. "But then we would have had nothing and I wouldn't give up those five days for anything. They were the best five days of my life."

He and Amie stayed together on the bed until her sobs subsided. He held her and let her cry, his hands smoothing her hair or running up and down her back. When her sobs finally stopped, he kissed her as he wiped the tears from her face. She smiled at him and returned his kiss.

"Sorry," she said. "I don't know where that came from."

"It's okay," Dean replied. He sat up, pulling her with him. "You go get cleaned up, I'm going to raid your kitchen." He gave her one more kiss, then put on his t-shirt. "Hurry up, okay?"

Amie smiled weakly and climbed out of the bed, the blanket still wrapped around her. Dean dropped her a wink and pulled the door shut behind him.

* * *

Dean was putting on his suit jacket when Amie came out of the bedroom. She headed directly for him, her arms sliding around his waist. He in turn wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. It felt so good to have her back in his arms, where she belonged. He had every intention of keeping her there. He didn't know for sure what he needed to do to convince her to go back to the bunker, but he was going to figure it out.

"Thanks for the coffee," she smiled at him.

"You're welcome," he replied.

Sam cleared his throat behind them. "Are you ready? I told the coroner in Indianapolis we'd be there by 10. We need to go."

"Okay, Sammy, keep your pants on," Dean responded. He kissed Amie again. "I wish you could go with us."

"I know, but Detective Lyons knows me, so I can't pass as FBI. Shannon and I will go talk to Leeann, maybe the families of the other victims, see if we can't get some information out of them. We'll meet back here in a few hours," Amie said.

"I just don't like you going out alone," Dean muttered.

"Dean, I've been alone for five months. I'm still alive," she explained. "I'll be fine."

He shook his head. "But you haven't been hunting during those five months. Are you sure you're okay? Maybe Shannon should go with Sam and I'll stay with you."

Dean saw Amie roll her eyes as she turned away from him. He could tell by her body language she was getting frustrated with him. Nothing irritated her more than his overprotective nature, but he couldn't control it, not when it came to her or his brother. It was automatic.

"We'll be fine, Dean. We'll go talk to Leeann and then Shannon and I can say we're grief counselors or something with the other families." She picked her jacket up and put it on. Dean noticed she was wearing boots and he could see the top of her gun in the custom-made holster in the left one. She picked up her car keys from the counter and grabbed another set of keys from a small table by the door, then gestured to Shannon. "Come on, let's go," she said as she threw the keys to Dean. "Lock up, will you?" She opened the door and marched out; Dean could hear her boots as she clomped down the stairs.

Shannon gave Dean a sheepish grin before kissing Sam good-bye. She grabbed her jacket off of the chair as she crossed to the door. She gave the boys a wave as she pulled the door closed behind her.

"Wow, Dean, your powers of persuasion are overwhelming. She's putty in your hands," Sam taunted.

"Shut up," Dean growled.

The coroner in Indianapolis confirmed what Dean and Sam already knew—the bodies, all male, had been drugged by some type of sedative and drained of their blood. It was definitely a vetala, vampires didn't sedate their victims. They were now waiting to see the detective in charge of the investigation. Dean sat doodling in his notebook while they waited.

They had been waiting about ten minutes when the detective finally came in the room. He sat behind his desk, a cup of coffee in one hand, his tie askew. "Gentlemen, I apologize for taking so long. What can I do for the FBI? I'm guessing that this has something to do with the recent murders?"

Sam sat forward in his seat. "Well, five murders in what, less than a month? That has us a bit concerned. Thought maybe you could use some help."

As Sam spoke to the detective, Dean's eyes roamed over the mess of files and papers on the desk. One file in particular caught his eye—'Dalton, Amie' was written on the top. He was pretty sure that was the alias Amie was currently using. But why the hell did the detective have an entire file of information on her?

"No suspects at all Detective?" Dean asked. "What about that woman that identified the last body? What was her name?" He flipped through his notebook, pretending to search for information.

"Her name is Amie Dalton, but she's not a suspect. She just knew the guy and came out to identify the body for the family. She's a dead end, nothing there," Lyons explained.

Dean tapped Sam's leg to get his attention. When Sam looked at him, he looked down at the file, knowing his brother would get the hint and also look at it. Sam's eyes widened slightly when he saw Amie's name.

"Maybe we should talk to her. Didn't she work with him at some bar or something?" Sam asked.

Lyons looked around the room, refusing to meet either Sam or Dean's eyes. "I don't know anything about her. Maybe one of the deputies does. You could talk to them. Now, if you'll excuse me," he said as he set his coffee cup on the desk and stood up, extending his hand to Dean. "I think I'm good Agent Rogers. I've got it under control. If I needed the feds to step in, I would have called you. If you'll excuse me, I've got five murders to solve."

Dean stood up and put his left hand on the desk, leaning forward toward the detective. He gripped the detective's hand with his right, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. As he shook the man's hand, he subtly pushed the stuff under his hand forward, causing the detective's coffee to splash out of the cup onto the desk and the papers there.

"Oh crap, sorry," Dean said calmly.

Lyons grabbed some napkins and tried to mop up the spilled coffee. Dean slipped the file with Amie's name on it and the one underneath it off of the desk and quickly stepped behind Sam, his back to Lyons. Sam stood up as well, blocking the detective's view.

"Sorry to bother you, Detective. If you need anything, here's my number," Sam said as he slid one of his fake FBI cards onto the desk. He turned and pushed Dean out the door.

They hurried down the hall, out the front door and into the Impala. Dean gave the files to Sam and started the car. He pulled out of the parking lot and drove a few blocks down the street, pulling into an office complex and parking in the back. Sam read the file on Amie as they drove.

"What's in that?" Dean said as he put Baby in park. He yanked the file from Sam's hand and started flipping through it. It was filled with random information about Amie—where she worked, what kind of car she drove, and her license information. Most of it was based on the alias she was currently using, one that Dean wasn't very familiar with. There was also a list of questions about her, most of them in reference to her background and the lack of information about it.

"Why the hell is he so curious about her?" Dean mumbled under his breath. He read through everything again, hoping he would see something in the file that would help him figure out why Lyons needed to know about Amie. "It doesn't look like he thinks she's a suspect, he has notations about her alibies. She was in the bar working every time there was a death. This file makes it seem like he's just trying to gather information about her. But why?" He glanced over at Sam, who was reading the other file. "What's in that one?" he asked.

"Nothing, just his notes on the case," Sam replied. "This guy doesn't have a clue what he's doing. He's got more info on Amie than he has on the murders. His search is half-hearted at best. It's like he doesn't care."

"Well, then I guess we'll have to care. Find this damn thing and kill it." Dean started the Impala and swung out of the parking lot. "Then we need to get the hell out of here and take Amie with us."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"You okay?" Shannon asked. "You seem kind of upset."

Amie glanced at the younger woman sitting in the passenger seat. She tried to smile reassuringly at her, but she was sure it came off as more of a grimace. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just get irritated when Dean acts like I'm not capable of taking care of myself," she sighed.

"I totally understand," Shannon commiserated. "Sam acts like I'm some breakable china doll. It pisses me off."

"Have you told him that?" Amie asked.

Shannon snorted. "No, I don't think he'd listen to me." She stared out the window. "You know all that supposed training we did? He and Dean showed me stuff, but he wouldn't actually let me practice. Said he was afraid I'd get hurt. He wouldn't even let me near the stupid punching bag. The only thing I feel confident doing is shooting a gun."

"So how'd you convince him to let you come here?" Amie inquired.

"You can't laugh if I tell you," Shannon said. She glanced at Amie before taking a deep breath and continuing. "I threw a huge fit. A bitch fit to end all bitch fits. I literally stomped my feet, screamed, yelled, you name it, I did it. I am actually still a little surprised that he agreed to bring me."

Amie put her hand over mouth, trying to stifle the laugh she felt bubbling up inside her. Shannon looked at her and they both burst out laughing. "Seriously, that worked?"

Shannon nodded, still laughing.

"Okay, look, I'll help you train if you want me to," Amie offered. "I'm not afraid to throw a few punches your way."

"Feelings mutual," Shannon blurted out. "Anyway, does that mean you're coming back to the bunker?" she asked a bit warily.

"I haven't decided yet," Amie muttered. "I think I probably will, but I want to make sure it's the right thing, that it's the best thing for both of me and Dean."

"Look, I'm going to tell you what I told him." Shannon turned to face Amie, her face serious. "You two are good together and you need each other. Dean needs you, more than he'll ever admit. He's been moping around the bunker ever since you left. And between you and me, his drinking is out of control. I'm afraid he'll either drink himself to death or get himself killed on a hunt because he just doesn't care. And I don't know what Sam would do if something happened to Dean."

Amie swallowed around the lump in her throat. "It's that bad?" she asked.

"Yes," Shannon answered. "It's that bad. But if you come back, maybe…."

Shannon's phone rang and she fumbled to get it from her pocket. "Dean?" she said, surprise coloring her voice. "What's up?" She listened for a few seconds then passed the phone to Amie. "He wants to talk to you."

Amie took the phone from Shannon, her eyes on the road. "Hi," she mumbled.

"I don't have your cell phone number," Dean growled angrily.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I forgot."

Amie heard him sigh. "Where are you?" he asked.

"We're on our way back to the bar, we should be there in ten or fifteen minutes," she said calmly despite the fact that her stomach was twisting and turning just hearing his voice. "We didn't really find out anything helpful though."

"Okay," Dean said, though he didn't sound happy. "God damn leads are falling apart on this stupid case. Alright, I'll see you in a few minutes. We'll wait in the bar for you." The call disconnected.

Amie handed the phone back to Shannon without a word. Dean was rapidly falling back into his old habits—being overprotective and demanding. She laughed to herself knowing full well that his overprotective, demanding nature was actually one of the reasons she loved him. Not that she would ever admit that to Dean, it would just encourage him.

Shannon and Amie were quiet for the remainder of the drive back to Nate's Bar, each lost in their own thoughts. Amie felt like she was on an emotional rollercoaster, her feelings fluctuating between fear, happiness and uncertainty. She still didn't know what she was going to do. She wanted to go back to the bunker with Dean, but nothing had changed. She had a lot to think about. She rested her elbow on the car door and her head in her hand. She was getting a headache.

Amie swung the tiny car into the parking lot nestled to the side of the bar. The Impala was parked near the street, so she drove past it to take the spot on the other side of the big black car. As she was about to turn into the parking space, she had to slam on her brakes to avoid hitting the Harley parked there.

"Shit," Amie muttered under her breath. What the hell was that still doing there? Had it been there this morning? She thought back to when she and Shannon had left and she realized she couldn't remember, so she turned to Shannon. "Was that motorcycle there this morning?"

Shannon thought for a second then nodded. "Yeah, it was. I remember thinking it must belong to that Nate guy or something since it was here so early."

Amie backed up and parked on the other side of the motorcycle then stepped out of the car. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and snapped a picture of the motorcycle's license plate number, then hurried into the bar. She wasn't overly thrilled to have Dean alone with Nate so she wanted to get inside as quick as possible. Since it was nearly 11, the open sign was on and the blinds were open. As she pulled the door open, Amie could see Sam and Dean sitting at the bar, Nate standing opposite them.

The bell above the door signaled their entrance. Sam turned toward the door, slid off of the stool he was sitting on and went immediately to Shannon, pulled her into his arms, lifted her off of her feet and kissed her. He grinned at Amie, who grimaced and made a gagging sound.

"You two are so disgustingly cute it nauseates me," she teased. She slid past them and hurried to Dean's side, sitting in the seat Sam had just vacated.

Dean and Nate seemed to be okay. At least Dean wasn't killing him. He was nursing a beer and Nate had a bottle of water in front of him. The television was on, tuned to ESPN from the looks of it, and they seemed to be discussing whatever was on the screen. Dean turned to her when she sat down.

"Hey baby," he said, leaning in to kiss her. "What's up?"

She kissed him, glancing at Nate out of the corner of her eye. He grinned at her and surreptitiously gave her a thumbs up. She giggled, causing Dean to raise his eyebrows curiously.

"Do you know anything about that Harley in the lot, Nate?" she asked. "I think it's been there for a couple of days. Has anybody come by about it?"

Nate shook his head. "I was going to ask you about it, actually."

"I think it belongs to a customer that was here two days ago. He left with some woman in her car," Amie responded. "Are you still running the camera in the lot?"

"Yep," Nate said. "Why?"

"No reason," Amie shrugged. "Maybe we can see who he left with or something."

Nate smiled. "Whatever floats your boat, Nancy Drew." He wandered down to the end of the bar and picked up the book he kept tucked under the counter.

Dean squeezed her hand. "What are you thinking?"

"The guy who was driving the Harley, he met some woman and spent most of the evening with her here in the bar. Then he left with her, just like Jerry. I want to see if we can see her, or her car, on the camera. Right after I started working here, I got Nate to put a camera outside overlooking the lot. There had been some thefts during business hours, so I convinced him it was a good idea," she explained. "I've got the surveillance software hooked up to my laptop, let's go look at it."

Dean followed Amie up the stairs. He must have been waiting for her to get through the door, because as soon as she opened it, he turned her around and pulled her against him, his lips immediately finding hers. Every time Dean kissed her felt like the first time and this was no exception. She melted into him and let him take the lead. When she finally pulled away a minute or so later she could barely breathe.

"Whoa, what was that?" she asked.

Dean rested his forehead against hers. "I forgot how awesome you are. Smart, sexy, and amazing." He kissed her again.

"Talk about disgustingly cute," Sam joked, pushing past them to step into the room, Shannon close behind. "What are you two doing?"

Amie laughed and stepped away from Dean. "We're checking the parking lot camera. I've got a feeling something is up with that woman the Harley owner left with," she explained. She grabbed her laptop off of the counter and logged into the bar's security system. She quickly found the day that the motorcycle guy had left his Harley in the parking lot. She found the arrival time and watched the video from there, turning the screen so Dean and Sam could see it. Shannon sat next to them on the counter, peering around Sam's shoulder. Dean stepped up next to Amie and slid his arm around her waist, his hand resting on her hip.

They watched the owner of the Harley park it in the lot and go into the bar. Amie sped up the video, the time stamp in the corner ticking by the seconds in triple time. When the Harley owner exited the bar, a scantily clad blonde following him, she returned it to normal speed.

The blonde had her hands all over the Harley guy as they exited the bar, pushing him backward toward her car as she shoved her tongue down his throat. They couldn't get a really good look at the woman because she kept her back to the camera as they walked. The guy got in the passenger seat of the Honda, a satisfied smile on his face. The blonde slammed the door and finally turned toward the camera. Her eyes flashed unnaturally.

"Gotcha," Amie grinned.

* * *

They spent the next hour coordinating their search for the woman, or whatever the hell she was. Sam was able to pull her license plate number off of the video surveillance so he was able to make a couple of calls and get some of the locals to keep an eye out for it. Shannon ran the Harley's plate number so she could try to find the owner, and Dean started searching for some place that the men might have been taken, like a warehouse or abandoned factory.

While they worked, Amie decided to run down to the bar and talk to Nate about getting the night off. Dean stopped her as she was on her way down the stairs.

"Hey," he yelled from apartment door. "Where do you think you're going?"

She stopped and looked back up at him. He had changed out of his jacket and tie into his customary jeans, t-shirt and flannel combination. She couldn't help but admire the way his biceps strained against the sleeves of his shirt and across his shoulders. His boots clunked on the stairs as he moved toward her. She was about to tell him she didn't appreciate his attitude until her eyes reached his face and she saw the sexy smirk and laughter in his eyes.

Amie went back up the stairs until she stood a couple of steps above where he stood, which only brought her face to face with him. She wrapped her hands around his unbuttoned shirt and pulled him to her, kissing him slowly. She broke away and smiled at him. "I'll be right back. I just need to talk to Nate, get out of working tonight."

Dean put his hand to her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "I forgot, you have a _job _to worry about," he mumbled. "Want me to come with you?"

She shook her head. "I'm good." She kissed him again, letting him pull her tight against him, savoring the feel of his muscular arms around her. They lingered in the stairwell for several minutes, enjoying a stolen moment alone. Amie eventually pulled away, sighing loudly as she did.

"Just a couple of minutes, okay?" she whispered.

Dean just nodded and stepped back into her apartment shutting the door behind him. Amie started back down the stairs, her head spinning. She didn't know what to do. Last night had been amazing and being back with Dean was indescribable, but she still wasn't positive going back to the bunker was a great idea. Of course she wasn't sure it was a bad idea either. She rolled her eyes, frustrated with herself. They'd been back together for less than 24 hours and she'd already changed her mind at least a dozen times. The only thing she knew for sure was that she still loved Dean. She'd never stopped.

Amie shoved the door open to the bar, hard enough that it bounced against the wall. Nate looked over at her, a curious look on his face. She grimaced and mouthed 'sorry' to the bar's owner as she sat on the barstool at the corner. Nate served a couple of drinks and then came to stand in front of her.

"What's up, kiddo?" he asked.

"Do you mind if I take the night off?" she asked. "I've got some…stuff to do."

Nate looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "Does this 'stuff' have anything to do with that Dean guy?"

She returned his inquisitive look with one of her own. "What do you think?" she asked crossly.

"I think he's part of whatever happened to you that you won't talk about. I think he means something to you, something more than you're letting on," Nate observed. "What is it with you two anyway? Who is he?"

"He's my past," Amie sighed. "And my future, I think. Shit Nate, I don't know what to do." She put her head in her hands and stared at the shiny bar top. "I've been running from him for five months, but I'm not really sure he's what I'm running from. I think I'm trying to get away from what he reminds me of and the feelings he forces me to face."

"Have you asked yourself the simple question?" Nate said.

"I don't think there are any simple questions, at least not when it comes to us. You don't understand everything we've gone through," she lamented.

Nate reached across the bar and pulled Amie's hands away from her face. "There's always one simple question, with a yes or no answer," he explained. "Do you love him?" he asked, emphasizing each word.

"It's not that simple…" she mumbled, her eyes still on the bar.

"But it is," Nate interrupted. "Yes or no?"

"Yes," she replied, her head nodding as she spoke.

"Then that's your answer," he said. "And yes, you can have the night off. Though I have a feeling that I just agreed to let you quit."

Amie laughed and squeezed his hands. "Thanks, Nate, you're a great friend." She jumped off of the stool and hurried back up the stairs.

"Please tell me you're joking," Shannon was complaining as Amie walked back into the apartment.

"Joking about what?" Amie asked.

"We found the Honda," Dean explained. He looked at Sam, a grin on his face. "At a strip club on the outskirts of Indianapolis."

"A strip club?" she questioned. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Nope," Dean grinned. "Sammy and I are gonna flip to see who gets to go in. Though I'm totally willing to take this on if I have to." He bounced excitedly up and down on his toes, the familiar smirk back on his face.

Amie punched him on the arm as she tried to walk past him. He put his arm out and grabbed her, pulling her over to stand next to him. He nuzzled her neck gently, placing a kiss against her throat. Sam rolled his eyes.

Shannon came over to stand next to Sam. She set her iPad on the counter and pointed to it. "That's the club," she said. "The first victim disappeared from there about three weeks ago."

"It's the perfect place," Amie theorized. "Bunch of lonely men, drinking and vulnerable. Alone. A good-looking woman could easily pick up a guy in there." She looked between Sam and Dean. "I guess one of you is going in as Mr. Sad and Vulnerable."

Dean turned to Sam. "Rock, paper, scissors? Loser goes in," he said as he got ready to play the game he knew he always lost.

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Um, you _always_ lose, dude," he protested. "I'm not playing."

"Bullshit you're not! This is the only fair way to decide!" Dean yelled.

"You are so full of crap, Dean!" Sam responded, equally as loud as his brother.

Amie stepped between the boys, her hands up. "No arguing. How about you both go in, separately, and maybe one of you will manage to get picked up?" She shrugged. "I figure you two should be able to pull off sad and pathetic quite easily." She giggled and danced out of Dean's reach to stand next to Shannon at the kitchen counter. Dean grinned at her and mouthed 'later.'

* * *

Shannon and Amie followed the Impala in her car to the strip club about an hour from Warren. The boys parked in the back of the lot behind the club and she backed into a spot about three rows over from Baby. Dean climbed out of the car and gestured to Amie. She hurried over, Shannon following her.

Sam took Shannon's hand and pulled her a few feet away from the car. He immediately bent over, whispering against her ear. Amie walked over to Dean, loving the smirk he wore like a badge of honor on his face. She tried to put a serious look on her face before she got to him.

"Could you try to look a little less excited about this job?" she mumbled. She grabbed the edge of his jacket and pulled him against her, staring up into his emerald green eyes.

Dean ran his hands up and down her jacket clad arms. "But it's a strip club, baby," he beamed. "Naked, dancing women. What could be better?" He grinned cheekily.

"Me," she whispered as she stood on her tip toes and placed several kisses along his jaw.

Dean turned his head until his lips met hers, immediately opening his mouth and sliding his tongue into her mouth. He grabbed the back of her head and deepened the kiss, a low growl emanating from his throat. "I'm supposed to go in there and act lonely and horny. If you keep doing this…" he moaned.

"You'll definitely be horny," she shot back as she seductively licked his lips.

Dean laughed, his entire body shaking and his head thrown back. He pulled Amie against his chest in a tight hug. "Definitely," he said.

Sam came over with Shannon, a curious look on his face. "What's so funny?" he asked.

Dean just shook his head. "You ready?" he asked his younger brother.

"Yep," Sam replied. He kissed Shannon on the top of the head, then hugged her.

Dean dug the Impala's keys from the front pocket of his jeans and slipped them into Amie's hand. "Hold onto Baby for me," he whispered in her ear before kissing her forehead.

Amie watched the boys cross the lot and go around the corner to the front of the club. Once she couldn't see them anymore, she and Shannon went back to her car to wait.

Shannon pulled a book out of her backpack as soon as they were settled in the car. Amie sat and stared out the car window, her mind wandering. She hated to admit it, but she had actually missed this—the hunt. She'd missed using everything and anything at her disposal to hunt down the monsters that crawled out of the dark and took whatever or whoever they wanted. Most of all, she missed helping people. Forget the constant need for revenge, the incessant longing to fill some hole left in her life, what she'd always been most proud of was the fact that she was saving lives every time she was successful on a job. Maybe there wasn't always someone to say thank you and maybe she felt unappreciated sometimes, but deep inside, she knew she was doing the right thing. That was probably why, despite her promise to herself that she would never hunt again, she was doing just that.

Amie looked over at Shannon. Now would be a good time to ask any questions she might have about her time away from Dean. He wasn't very forthcoming with information and if she asked him outright, he would either lie or tell her just enough of the truth to shut her up. Maybe Shannon would be willing to give up some more information. After all, she'd been okay with talking about it earlier.

She cleared her throat to get the other woman's attention. Shannon glanced over at her without closing her book. Amie smiled at her.

"Mind if I ask you a few questions?" she inquired.

Shannon closed her book and tossed it in the backseat. She turned to face Amie, her back against the passenger door. "Okay, what do you want to know?" she said.

Amie felt the hostility rolling like a wave off of Shannon, but she decided to push ahead. "Earlier you said you couldn't even describe how bad it's been, with Dean I mean," she prompted. "Will you tell me what you meant?"

Shannon stared at the ceiling of the car for several minutes before she spoke. When she finally looked at Amie, her eyes were filled with indecision. "Do you really want the truth? It's not pretty and well, I'm not going to sugarcoat anything," she cautioned.

Amie nodded, fear making her gut churn.

"When I told you his drinking was out of control, well, that was an understatement. He drinks almost constantly, Amie. He carries a flask with him, all the time. I've seen him pour it in his coffee, sodas, pretty much anything. He doesn't know I know this, but he keeps a bottle of whiskey in the drawer next to his bed. He thinks he's being sneaky and neither Sam nor I know about it, but we know." Shannon sighed. "He drinks at least one bottle a day, maybe more. He tries to bury them in the bottom of the trash, but he kind of sucks at being sneaky. I usually find seven or eight bottles a week in the trash."

"Dean has always been a drinker…" Amie started to say.

"But not like this," Shannon interrupted. "It's bad. And if I'm being brutally honest, it got worse when you left. Like you can't even imagine. He drinks every night until he passes out and he drinks during the day just to make it from one minute to the next. And when he hunts, he just doesn't care, at all."

"What do you mean?" Amie asked worriedly.

Shannon sat up and leaned across the seat, her eyes intense. "He's suicidal. He goes out and takes chances. He's got so much anger bottled up inside of him and he lets it out on the job. Even Sam can't stop him. He went into a nest of vampires by himself, chased down a couple of ghouls on his own, and he walked into a house full of werewolves alone, all in the last five months. Did you know he took on and killed three demons by himself when he got the Mark?"

"No," Amie whispered as she tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. "We were so wrapped up in the birth of Mary Grace and then her…death, and then I, umm, left."

"That's right, you left. Maybe if you'd stayed, it would have ended there. But you didn't. Instead, you left Dean and then Sam had to pick up the pieces, not that there was anything left to salvage. Dean takes screwed up to a whole new level. First there's the burden of the Mark that he has to carry, which we still don't know what _that_ is; then there's the fact that his five-day-old daughter is gone, dead, torn away from him too soon. Then to top it all off, the only thing, the only _person_, that might have helped Dean keep his shit together, help him survive everything that was happening to him, well, she just up and left him. Because it was the "right" thing to do." Shannon made the quotes in the air with her fingers and Amie could see her hands were shaking. "You destroyed him Amie. You couldn't have hurt him more if you'd ripped his heart from his chest and stomped on it."

Amie didn't have anything to say. She couldn't explain away what she'd done, she barely understood it herself. She felt the tears sliding down her face. "I didn't know," she mumbled.

Shannon laughed bitterly. "No, you didn't. But you didn't try either. Jesus, do you really even love him?"

"What?" Amie choked out. "Is that what he thinks? That I don't love him?"

"No," Shannon grumbled. "It's what I think. He'll defend you to the ends of the earth, no matter what you do. Shit, Sam does too, despite witnessing firsthand what you've done to his brother. I'm a little bit more skeptical. Sorry."

"It's not like I don't deserve it," Amie mumbled, trying to hold back the tears. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She nearly sighed in relief, she was ready for this conversation to be over.

She pulled it out of her pocket and opened up the text message from Dean. It was a picture of a blonde woman wearing very little clothing and climbing all over Sam. "Does she look familiar?" it read.

"That's her," she typed back.

"Okay, sit tight. I'll keep you posted," Dean replied.

Amie handed her phone to Shannon, who looked disgusted. "Figures she'd pick Sam," she grumbled, handing the phone back.

They sat in uncomfortable silence until a knock on the window startled them both. Amie looked up to see Dean's face. She pushed open the door and climbed out of the car to stand next to him.

"Give me Baby's keys. Sam left with her," he ordered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Dean took the keys from Amie, then leaned down to talk to Shannon. "Pull up the GPS on Sam's phone so we can track him. Come ride with me." He turned to Amie. "You follow me." He stalked off to the Impala.

He waited impatiently for Shannon to climb in the front seat, then he pulled out of the strip club's parking lot. Shannon directed him through the streets, using the signal from Sam's phone as a guide. They drove for about twenty minutes, the signal leading them to an abandoned shoe factory. Dean parked a half a mile down the road from the entrance and waited for Amie. He and Shannon sat in silence for several minutes when he saw her turn toward him out of the corner of his eye. She looked like she had something to say.

"Are you sure you want Amie back, Dean?" Shannon suddenly asked.

"What?" he mumbled, turning to look at her. "What kind of question is that? How about you let me worry about me and Amie?" He opened the door and exited the car, not wanting to continue talking about Amie with Shannon. She had good intentions, but she was a little self-righteous for her own good. She'd been giving him an earful about Amie for months, ever since she'd left. She seemed determined to singlehandedly convince Dean _not_ to take Amie back. Unfortunately, walking away didn't deter Shannon from what she seemed determined to say because she got out of the car and came to stand by him.

"Look, you know I'm not her biggest fan. I don't like what she did to you," Shannon explained.

"No," Dean interrupted. "You don't like that it affected your relationship with Sam because I needed my brother. Not that it mattered, he hasn't been exactly knocking down my door to comfort me. In case you hadn't noticed, my good friend Jack has been doing that."

"That's not true," Shannon started to say.

"Shut it princess," Dean retorted. He was getting angrier the more Shannon talked. Right now, that was not what he needed. He needed to worry about Sam. "It is true and you know it. Sam is so wrapped up in you that he can't see anything else. Honestly, you don't know Amie and I well enough to make any judgment calls about whether or not we should be together. You were with us for what, the length of Amie's pregnancy, right? We've known each other for years and we're good together and for each other. So butt out. I don't want your advice."

Shannon looked shocked at Dean's outburst, but she nodded her head and turned away, looking off down the road. Dean looked over the top of her head and saw Amie's little blue car coming toward them. He checked his phone while they waited for her to park behind the Impala, hoping Sam had texted him since leaving the club. Nothing.

Once Amie was standing next to him, he laid out his plan. They would go into the warehouse and try to find Sam; he would take point, with Amie as back up. Shannon would stay with the cars and watch to make sure no one tried to leave. When she started to protest, Dean stopped her with one look.

"Sam will kill me if I let you go in there," he explained. "Sorry, you wait here." He opened the trunk and started pulling out weapons. He handed Amie a silver knife and watched her tuck it into her boot. "Let's go."

Dean walked up the street and slipped through a hole in the chain link fence. He held it open so Amie could follow him. They crossed the empty lot quickly, reaching the abandoned building within seconds. He had hoped he would be able to see in the windows but they were boarded up. He tried the door and was surprised when it opened easily. He held it open and gestured for Amie to go in. She slid past him, her body brushing against his, sending a shot of electricity through him. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate. He couldn't let Amie's presence distract him.

He followed her through what looked like a small storage area filled with torn up cardboard boxes and various other junk. They stopped in front of a set of double swinging doors on the other side of the room. Dean looked through the windows set into the doors. There was a small entryway beyond the doors that led into a large open room. He could hear voices and one of them was Sam's.

"You know this isn't going to end well for you, right?" his younger brother asked.

"God damn hunters! How did you find me?" Dean heard a female voice say.

Dean could hear the sarcasm in Sam's answer. "Jesus, I love how you're so sure that you're being sneaky. It's not like you're covering your tracks very well. Going to the same bars, working at a strip club and repeating the same patterns. A shitty hunter could have found you. My brother and I, well, we don't fall into that category."

"What do you mean, you and your brother?" the female asked, fear obvious in her voice.

Dean decided that was his cue, so he pushed through the doors. "Ever heard the name Winchester?" he inquired.

The vetala spun around, her fangs bared. She scurried to stand behind Sam, who was duct taped to a metal office chair. He smiled widely at Dean and Amie. "Damn, it took you long enough!" he exclaimed. "Stop for coffee?"

"And gas," Dean laughed. He spun the silver knife in his hand as Amie stepped out from behind him, her knife now in her hand as well. He saw his brother's eyes dart around the room, most likely looking for Shannon. Dean shook his head minutely to indicate she wasn't there. He turned his attention to the monster hiding behind Sam.

"Why don't you just come out from behind my brother, sweetheart? It'll be so much easier," he coaxed. He nodded at Amie to move to the other side of the room, his eyes on Sam. She immediately followed his silent instructions without a word, edging along the wall on the left side of the room.

The vetala tried to watch both of them, her eyes jumping back and forth between Dean and Amie. Dean knew he needed to approach her carefully or she would hurt Sam. He took two careful steps forward. The vetala hissed and ducked further behind the man tied to the chair.

Sam watched Dean moving toward him, a slight smirk on his face. But as Dean got closer, he saw Sam's eyes widen and his mouth fall open. The next thing he knew, there was a loud, bloodcurdling scream from behind him. He spun around to see Shannon encompassed in the arms of a second vetala.

"Son of a bitch," he growled. He should have known she wouldn't listen. And of course, she'd come in empty-handed, not a weapon in sight. He glanced at Amie, who looked perfectly calm. She smiled reassuringly at him, then nodded at the vetala holding Shannon. Dean returned the nod, then turned back to his brother.

"Okay, wait," he said. "Let's all take a breath, try to work this out. Untie my brother and I won't kill you, okay?"

The vetala behind Sam merely shook her head. "You aren't leaving. We'll just be keeping you here for a while."

Dean heard, rather than saw, Amie move across the room, her boot heels clicking on the cement floor as she threw herself across the room at the vetala holding Shannon. He waited until he heard the tell-tale sound of someone, or most likely multiple someones, hitting the floor before he launched himself at the vetala hiding behind Sam. Rather than try to take it out, he opted to tackle his brother, chair and all, to the floor, trapping the monster under the chair and the very large man duct taped to it. He quickly cut the tape binding Sam's hands and feet to the chair, allowing Sam to slide out of the chair. He turned and kneeled on the metal back, shoving it into the vetala's chest. Dean handed him the knife and watched as he stabbed it into the chest of the monster.

Once she was dead, Dean and Sam turned in unison to the girls. Shannon was against the wall, as far from the second vetala as she could get. Her face and clothes were covered in dirt and tears were streaming down her face. She was hunched into herself, her arms wrapped around her legs. But Dean's attention was drawn to Amie, who was on the floor, the vetala on top of her with its fangs buried in her shoulder. He leapt to his feet and ran to Amie, shoving the vetala off of her and sending it flying into the wall.

"Sam," he yelled. His brother threw the knife he was still holding to him. Dean easily caught it with one hand, then turned and grabbed the vetala by the hair, yanking it back against him and burying the knife to the hilt in its chest. He dropped it to the floor, kicking it aside as he went back to Amie.

She was sitting up, a hand pressed to the wound on her shoulder. Blood was spreading across the collar of her denim shirt and onto the jacket she was wearing. When Dean knelt in front of her, he noticed that her eyes were glassy and she was having a hard time keeping them open, most likely because of the vetala's venom moving through her.

"I'm okay," she breathed, wincing when he touched her. "I don't think it's that bad."

"Right, baby," he said quietly. "Just let me look at it." He gently moved her hand so he could look at the wound. It was a jagged bite mark, deeper on one side than the other. He took his jacket off, then quickly pulled off his long-sleeved button up, folded it and pressed it against her neck. He grabbed her chin with his hand so he could look in her eyes, but she could barely focus on him. "Okay, time to go," he said as he bent over and picked her up.

"Sammy?" he grunted, turning to look at his brother. Shannon was standing next to him holding his hand, tears still falling from her eyes. "We need to go." He started for the door, pushing it open with one foot as he carefully balanced Amie's semi-conscious form in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Shannon croaked. "I should have listened to you."

"Don't bother princess," he retorted. "I don't want to hear it. You're just lucky that she's okay. Now let's get out of here."

"Be nice," Amie scolded, her head falling against his shoulder.

Dean chuckled low in his throat and kissed her forehead. Same old Amie. Still not letting him get away with anything.

* * *

He kept Amie tucked against his side as he drove the Impala back to Warren. She faded in and out of consciousness, her head lolling against the front seat and his shoulder. The wound on her shoulder had finally stopped bleeding, which was a relief. Now he just needed to get her upstairs to her apartment without anyone in the bar noticing the state she was in or the blood on her clothes.

Dean parked Baby in the back corner of the lot next to the bar, followed closely by Sam, who was driving Amie's car, which he parked next to the Impala. He unfolded his huge frame from the tiny car, stretching as he freed himself from the cramped vehicle.

"How is she?" he asked as he pulled open the Impala's passenger door and leaned into the car. Shannon had slid out of the blue Mini and come to stand next to Sam.

"She's okay," Dean answered. "We need to get her inside without raising any suspicions though. She's not very coherent, so I don't think she'll be much help."

"I'm fine," she suddenly mumbled, despite the fact that she couldn't even open her eyes.

Dean rolled his eyes. Typical. She thought she was fine when she was really not. Some things never changed. He helped Amie sit up and took off her blood-stained jacket, tossing it to the floor. He pulled his jacket off and put it on her. It was huge, but it covered the blood on her shirt and the wound on her neck. Now he just needed to figure out how to get her inside without physically picking her up and carrying her.

"Amie, honey, do you think you can walk? Just through the bar, that's it," he asked her.

She managed to open her eyes and look at Dean. "Yes," she breathed so quietly he barely heard her.

Dean opened the driver's door and climbed out. He reached in and pulled Amie to him by the arm, then he picked her up and carried her to the corner of the building. Sam and Shannon walked ahead of him until Sam could look in the window. He waited a couple of minutes, then gestured to Dean, who walked quickly past the window to the door of the bar. He set Amie on her feet, sliding his arm around her waist, holding her up. Sam held the door open for them.

"Okay baby, here we go," he whispered in her ear.

Amie opened her eyes and nodded. Dean glanced quickly around the bar, thankful that it looked to be a busy night. Maybe they could blend in with the crowd and avoid being noticed. He tightened his grip on her waist and started across the bar. He was impressed that she kept her eyes up and forward, not to mention managing to walk without swaying or stumbling.

When they passed Nate behind the bar, Dean acknowledged him with a nod. He looked as if he was about to say something, but Sam stepped up in front of him, drawing his attention away from Amie and their trek to the door. Dean was relieved when he was finally able to yank open the door leading to the stairs and pull Amie through. He scooped her up and climbed the narrow stairs. He had to wait a few minutes for Sam and Shannon to follow, as Sam had Amie's keys. When they finally came through the door, he glared down at them.

"Sorry," Sam grumbled. "He wouldn't shut up. I finally told him we thought she had food poisoning." He held up a six-pack of ginger ale. "For her."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Will you unlock the door, please?"

Sam pulled Amie's keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. Once it was open, Dean pushed past Sam and took Amie directly to her room. He laid her on the bed and returned to the living room.

"Can you see if you can find a first aid kit? I want to clean up her wound," he asked. Shannon started pulling open cupboards and drawers until she found a first aid kit tucked in the back of the kitchen cabinet under the sink. While she hunted for it, Dean grabbed a couple of water bottles from the refrigerator and wet several cloths with warm water from the sink. He contemplated taking a couple of beers with him, but decided against it. As he passed Shannon, he took the kit from her without a word, crossed the room and shut himself in Amie's bedroom.

He moved to her side and sat on the bed. She stirred slightly, opening her eyes just a little to look at him. She smiled weakly at him.

"Hi," he said, returning the smile. He brushed her hair from her face. Amie sighed and leaned her head into his hand. "I'm gonna clean that wound up, okay?" he whispered. She nodded slightly, seemingly exhausted from the effort it took to move.

Dean picked her up and sat her against the headboard of the bed. He pulled his jacket off of her and tossed it to the floor. He unbuttoned her denim shirt, grimacing as she whimpered when he moved her arm to remove it. He hated seeing her in pain. He leaned over her and kissed her gently.

"Sorry," he whispered against her lips. He moved so he was sitting behind her and she was leaning against his chest. He took one of the damp cloths and cleaned the blood from her neck and shoulder, pulling the strap of her tank top down so he could see the wound better. When he pushed her hair away from the base of her neck, he caught a glimpse of another tattoo, one he hadn't seen before.

"What is this?" he asked as he brushed his finger over it.

"Hmm, what's what?" Amie asked, her words slightly slurred.

"The tattoo on your neck," Dean clarified. "What is it?"

Amie took a deep breath before answering. "Oh, yeah, it's um, it's an Enochian warding sigil. I got it when I left."

Though he suspected he knew the answer, he asked the question on his mind anyway. "Why did you get an Enochian warding sigil tattooed on your neck?" He could hear the anger in his voice as he spoke.

"So Castiel couldn't find me," she replied matter-of-factly.

Dean closed his eyes, his temper flaring even more. Was she serious? He'd asked Cas countless time to try to find her, with no luck. Now he knew why; she warded herself against angels. He wanted to shake her, tell her how ridiculous and stupid she had been, he could actually feel his fingers tightening their grip on her shoulders. He took a deep breath and let go of her before he hurt her. Fortunately for her, she was still pretty out of it or they would definitely be discussing that ridiculous choice. He would just have to chew her out once the venom was out of her system.

So instead of yelling at her, he finished cleaning and bandaging her wound. He helped her pull off her blood-stained tank top and bra, resisting the urge to run his hands over her naked body. Not while she was barely coherent. He opened a couple of her dresser drawers, looking for a t-shirt he could cover her with. The first two drawers were filled with socks and underwear, but in the third drawer he discovered a half a dozen shirts. He pulled one out without looking and helped her put it on, then he unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down over her hips. Damn it, he wished this wasn't turning him on so much. He finally got them off of her and added them to the pile on the floor. Now that she was at least covered in a shirt, Dean looked her over. She had a few bruises on her legs from tackling Shannon and the vetala to the floor, along with the bite mark on her shoulder. Dean reached down to grab some blankets to cover Amie up when he noticed that the shirt he'd put on her was one of his old band shirts. The Kansas one to be exact. He'd been wondering where it had vanished to and it looked like he had his answer. She must have taken it when she left. He shook his head and smiled to himself, then pulled the blanket up to her waist. He leaned over and kissed her again, wishing she was awake so he could do all the things to her he wanted to do. He decided he'd get that beer after all.

Dean opened the door of Amie's room and crossed the tiny living room to the kitchen. Sam and Shannon were sitting on the couch, Sam's arm around his girlfriend. From what Dean could see, it looked like she'd been crying again. He took a beer from the fridge and twisted it open, drinking half of it in one swallow.

"What are you two doing?" he asked the couple on the couch.

"Just talking," Sam explained. He nodded toward Shannon. "She's still pretty upset."

Shannon looked at Dean, her eyes filled with regret. "I'm really sorry, Dean. Really, really sorry. I should have listened to you and stayed in the car. But I was worried about Sam and I wasn't thinking…." She looked away, more tears spilling down her cheeks. "It's my fault that Amie got hurt. I should have listened."

"You already said that," Dean cut her off. "I'm sure you're sorry, but that doesn't change the fact that Amie got hurt because you didn't listen. Things need to change if you want to hunt with us. If you ever get to hunt with us again." He drank the rest of his beer and grabbed another one. "Think on that one, princess," he said, stalking off to the bedroom.

Dean stripped his clothes off as he crossed the room and entered the bathroom. He turned on the shower and stepped under the scalding hot stream. He hurriedly washed himself off, taking probably the quickest shower he'd ever taken. He just wanted to crawl into bed, pull the woman he loved up against him and sleep for hours—no thinking, no worrying about Abaddon or Malachi or where the hell the stupid First Blade was, just Amie wrapped in his arms where she belonged.

He hung his towel up, stepped out of the steamy bathroom and rummaged through his duffel on the floor. He found a pair of boxers and quickly stepped into them. When he finally slid into the bed next to Amie, it was with a sigh of relief. She turned in her sleep, wrapped an arm around his waist, and pressed her cheek to his chest. She breathed deeply, snuggling into him. Dean rested his chin on her head and closed his eyes. He fell asleep just minutes later.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Amie had forgotten what it was like to sleep with Dean. Not the "we're having sex" sleeping with Dean, but the actual act of sleeping. She'd forgotten how he usually slept on his stomach with his arms under his pillow—so he could grab his gun easily—or the way he snored just a little bit when he was deep asleep, or how the worry lines in his forehead and around his eyes smoothed out. She'd also forgotten how much she'd missed waking up next to him. It had been so long, that it had startled her a little when she'd opened her eyes and his face was just inches from hers. Now she was lying in the bed, just watching him, letting her eyes roam over the planes of his face and upper body while he slept.

She finally sat up as quietly as she could, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. Four a.m. She ran a hand through her hair, grimacing at the tangles she encountered. She slipped out of the bed and quietly made her way to the bathroom. Once inside, she turned on the light and stepped up to the mirror. She had streaks of dirt covering her face and hands, not to mention blood caked in her hair. She pulled the collar of the shirt she was wearing aside to get a better look at what kind of damage the vetala had done. The wound was bandaged; she vaguely remembered Dean cleaning it off and covering it. She couldn't recall much else after the vetala sank its teeth into her shoulder, just an overwhelming need to sleep. She remembered coming back with Dean in the Impala, and walking through the bar, concentrating carefully on keeping her eyes open and keeping herself upright. And there was something Dean had asked her the night before, something he was pissed off about, she could remember hearing the anger in his voice. She knew it had happened while he was cleaning up the wound, but she could not recall what it was about.

Amie shook herself from her reverie and turned on the shower. She pulled off her clothes, dropped them to the floor as well as peeling the bandage from her neck and dropping it in the trash next to the edge of the tub. She stepped under the hot water and let it wash over her, relaxing her aching muscles. She was out of shape; not necessarily physically, she still worked out every day as well as running a couple of miles, but she was definitely not used to the physical demands of hunting or the toll it took on her body. Every part of her ached. She hurriedly cleaned herself up and climbed out of the shower.

She dried her hair as best she could with a towel, then braided the damp strands into a thick rope. She had just wrapped the towel around herself when the bathroom door opened, the steam accumulated in the room dissipating as the cooler air hit it. She turned to see Dean leaning against the doorjamb.

"Hi," she said quietly, unconsciously tightening her grip on the top of the towel.

"I woke up and you were gone," Dean grumbled. "I don't like it when I don't know where you are."

Amie could hear the unspoken meaning behind his words. She sighed inwardly and turned back to the mirror. "You can't keep me with you 24/7, Dean. Besides, I was just taking a shower. It's not like you couldn't find me."

He stepped up behind her, put his hand on the back of her neck and rubbed his thumb across the tattoo at the edge of her hairline. That's when it came back to her, the anger she'd heard in Dean's voice had come right after he'd seen the tattoo, after she told him that she'd gotten it so Castiel couldn't find her. She made eye contact with him in the mirror, flinching as she saw the look on his face—anger, hurt and disappointment all rolled into one painful expression.

"It appears that you've done everything in your power to make sure I couldn't find you," he commented, his thumb continuing to circle the tattoo.

"I just wanted to disappear," she reminded him. "I _needed_ to disappear. I knew you'd try to get Castiel to find me and I didn't want that. I didn't need to be there to distract you. Or to watch you destroy yourself for that matter. You didn't need me."

"What are you talking about?" Dean demanded, turning her so she was facing him. "How could you think I didn't need you? You are the one thing I _do_ need. The one thing I want." He rubbed a hand across his face, his hand rasping against the stubble on his cheeks. "I don't get it, Amie. I don't understand how you thought walking away from me would be the right thing to do. Forget all the shit you've spouted the last couple of days, all the shit you've made yourself believe over the last few months, I want you to tell me what you felt here." He tapped her chest right above her heart. "What did you feel the night you left me?"

Amie felt herself gulping for air. She didn't want to talk about this, not now, not ever. But Dean was standing right in front of her, blocking any chance for escape, his eyes boring into hers as he waited for an answer. She swallowed loudly.

"I was scared," she finally choked out. "I was terrified of staying, terrified of letting myself keep loving you. I lost my entire family once before, my husband and my son. Then my daughter was taken away from me. I thought I would lose you too. So rather than stay and wait for it to happen, I left. I ran away. I finally took a chance and let myself love again and look what happened. It blew up in my face. And I'm still scared, Dean. It's why I'm not sure I should go back, because that fear is still there, still lingering. I don't want to lose the only person I have left to love."

"But you left me, how is that not the same thing as losing me?" Dean asked, his voice breaking.

Amie shook her head. She knew what she felt, _how_ she felt, but she had no idea how to explain it without it sounding all wrong. She loved Dean too much to sit back and watch him kill himself; she didn't want to be there to see him die. And she knew the path he was on was one of self-destruction.

"Answer me!" Dean barked in her face, his hand slamming on the counter.

"I would rather leave and know you were alive, than stay and watch you die!" she retorted. "And I knew if you had to look into my eyes every day and see the pain I felt over losing Mary Grace, it would just fuel your need for revenge, a need that is going to get you killed. Without me around, you at least stood a chance of living! That's why I left, to save you!"

"I don't want to live without you," he shot back. "You are what keeps me going, what keeps me alive!" He grabbed her by the shoulders, his face inches from hers. "I cannot do it without you. Can't you see that, can't you understand that? I need you. Jesus Christ, you're just as fucking stubborn as I am. Whether you like it or not, we need each other, we belong together. You are mine and I am yours. Nothing will change that, nothing."

"But I'm not good for you, Dean. I'm the rotten apple in the bunch, I'm the broken piece that keeps everything from working," Amie sobbed. "I destroy what I love. I don't try to, I don't set out to, but I do. I don't want to destroy you, too."

She tried to pull away from him, to move out of his grasp, but he held tight to her shoulders, not letting her move. Amie could feel the damn tears again, and she hated them, hated that they let Dean see how she was feeling, how vulnerable she really was.

"Let me go, please," she begged, hoping he would realize that she wasn't just talking about his hands on her shoulders.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "No, I won't do it." Dean kissed the tears from her cheeks, his lips moving gently across her face until he reached her mouth. "I love you, Amie," he murmured against her lips. "Do you love me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes I do."

"Than nothing else matters," he said, capturing her lips with his, kissing her like it had been a thousand years since he'd last kissed her instead of just a few hours.

Amie felt herself sinking into him, letting him back in and she desperately wanted to fight it, to push away, to run from him, but she knew, in the end, she wouldn't. She did belong to him and nothing was going to change that. She wanted to be with Dean and nowhere else; these last few days had shown her what five months away from him hadn't—that she needed him as much as he apparently needed her.

"Okay," she exhaled slowly. "Okay..." She trailed off, unable to finish her thought because Dean was crushing her against him.

"Finally," he sighed. He pulled away to look in her eyes, then kissed her gently once again. "Thank you," he said.

She nodded, afraid to speak for fear that her emotions would overwhelm her. Instead she brought Dean's lips back to hers, pulling his body against hers. She released her hold on the towel still wrapped around her and let it drop to the floor so her naked body was pressed against him. He moaned quietly and ran his hands down her back stopping at her waist. He picked her up easily and carried her to the bed, lying her gently on her back as he let his lips explore her mouth, neck and shoulders. When he dipped his head to take her breast in his mouth, she leaned back, arching into him. He slid his hand up her thigh, grazing her sex as he moved toward her waist. He pulled her to the edge of the bed as he kissed a trail down her stomach, then slowly knelt in front her, his mouth moving up her inner thigh until he reached her already aching center. He tentatively licked a line along her folds to the tiny nub of nerves, causing her thighs to tremble expectantly.

"Dean," Amie moaned. She felt like a high tension wire, humming with desire.

Dean's tongue slipped out of his mouth and moved carefully into her, exploring her most intimate parts. He took his time, drawing out the movements of his tongue inside her, building the tension, taking her close to the edge repeatedly, but never quite letting her go. When she was finally panting with need, Dean slipped off his boxers and entered her quickly. He pushed his entire length into her and buried his face against her neck, the stubble on his chin scratching her shoulder. Amie grabbed him and pulled him against her, her breath catching in her throat as he started moving slowly, pulling himself out as far as possible before slipping back in with deliberate ease.

They moved together, the sounds of their desire falling from their lips. Dean kept his face buried against Amie's neck, biting and kissing as he pumped into her. He kept one arm wrapped around her and slid the other up her waist to her breast, teasing and rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Amie squirmed under his touch, her orgasm coming closer and closer with each movement of Dean's hips, until she finally exploded, all white light, burning skin and unbelievable pleasure in one mind-blowing moment. Dean's lips moved up her neck to her mouth, and she expected a kiss to match the relentless thrusting of his hips, the thrusting that was once more bringing her to orgasm, but instead he nibbled lightly at her lips, as if begging for permission to taste her. She opened her mouth and let him in, let him devour her. She grabbed the back of his head, tangling her fingers in his short hair and kissed him with equal intensity, her hips moving with his, her orgasm building until the white light washed over her again. She felt Dean stiffen as he thrust into her one last time, pulling her taut against him as he succumbed to his own climax, his quiet moan filling Amie's mouth as they continued kissing.

Amie collapsed against Dean's chest, trying to catch her breath. His rough, calloused hands ran up and down her back and she relished the feel of it. She kissed his chest right above his heart, then moved her way up to his mouth, where he eagerly met her and returned her affections.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I know," he replied, kissing the end of her nose. "Just don't forget it again, do you understand me?"

* * *

Amie couldn't go back to sleep after her and Dean's early morning activities, so she was curled up in the chair in her room reading while Dean slept in the bed. At first they'd sat together on the bed, talking about everything that had happened over the last five months. Because she hadn't been hunting, Amie's life was not quite as eventful as Dean's had been. Perhaps the biggest surprise had been his revelation that Garth was now a werewolf and living with a bunch of other werewolves. She was still trying to process that one. She'd tried to talk to Dean about his drinking and his apparent proclivity for danger while hunting, but he kept changing the subject. She had a feeling there was a lot he wasn't telling her. Eventually he'd fallen back to sleep and she had moved to the chair.

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table and was surprised to see that it was after eight. She stood up and stretched, throwing her book to the chair. Now that she had decided to return to the bunker with Dean, she should probably pack. She didn't have much in the apartment, mostly her clothes and a few personal items. Anything else could stay behind. It wouldn't be the first time she'd left her things in some tiny town and never returned. She headed for the closet to see exactly what she would be taking with her when her cell phone rang from the pile of clothing on the floor by the bed. She hurried over to find it before it woke up Dean.

"Nate?" she whispered, answering the phone. "What is it?' Amie ducked into the living room and quietly closed her bedroom door.

"Hey, sorry, I know it's early, but Detective Lyons called the bar looking for you last night," Nate explained. "He wanted to know if you'd be around this morning. Said it's very important that he talk to you."

"Why the hell does he want to talk to me? I don't know anything," she lied.

"I wish I knew kiddo," he said. "All I know is he wanted to talk to you. I told him I wasn't sure you'd be around because it was your day off. I didn't know what else to say."

"Thanks, Nate. I really appreciate it," she told the bar's owner, then disconnected the call.

Amie went back into her room and shook Dean until he started to stir. He rolled over and squinted at her.

"Hey baby," he mumbled. "What's up?"

"You need to get up and we need to get moving," she answered as she started pulling stuff from the closet and shoving it into a suitcase. "Detective Lyons wants to talk to me."

Dean sat up and pushed the blankets onto the floor. "What? Why?"

"I don't know," Amie muttered. "But do you really think it's a good idea for me to be here when he gets here?" She yanked open her dresser drawers and began adding those clothes to the ones already in her suitcase.

"Nope," he conceded. "I'll get Sam and Shannon moving while you finish packing." He rose from the bed and quickly put on his clothes before exiting the room.

She hurriedly packed her suitcases and duffel bags with as many clothes as she could fit in them. From the back of the closet, she pulled out her bag of weapons, unopened since her arrival in Warren. She cleared her things from the bathroom and then put on some clothes before hauling it all into the small living room.

Dean was clearing off the table, dropping papers into the sink one by one. Sam and Shannon were about to head out the door with their gear, so Sam came back and grabbed a couple of Amie's bags and took them out the door with him.

"We'll meet you in the car," Sam told her.

Amie nodded and crossed the living room to Dean. She looked over his shoulder just as he dropped a lit match into the sink and set the papers on fire. He let it burn for several minutes while Amie wrote a note to Nate on a piece of notebook paper, which she left propped against the salt and pepper shakers on the table. Once the papers were burned to a point where any pertinent information was indecipherable, Dean turned the water on in the sink, dousing the flames.

Amie dropped her cell phone on the table next to the note for Nate, then crossed the room to grab her old cell phone off of the bookshelf where she had left it. She tucked it into her back pocket, grabbed her laptop from the counter and stuffed it into her backpack. She surveyed the room and when she was satisfied that she had everything she wanted, she turned to Dean.

"Let's go," she said.

Dean slung his duffel over his shoulder, grabbed Amie's suitcase and held the door open for her, following her down the stairs and through the empty bar. He looked out the window briefly before opening the door and signaling for Amie to go through. They hurried to the parking lot where Sam and Shannon were waiting by the Impala's open trunk.

Amie glanced over at her Mini Cooper. Dean must have seen the expression on her face, because he put his arm around her and dropped his lips to her ear.

"It has to stay, baby," he maintained. "You can't take it."

"I know," she conceded. "But I just got it back." She rolled her eyes. "God, this sucks."

Dean kissed her cheek and led her around to the driver's side door. He opened it and she slid in, sitting in the middle of the seat while he got in next to her. Sam and Shannon climbed in the back. Dean started the Impala and pulled out of the bar's parking lot. As Amie watched through the rearview mirror, Warren quickly faded away.

Just outside of Lafayette, Indiana, Dean turned to Amie. "Hungry?" he asked, squeezing her knee.

Amie smiled at him. "I know you probably are. Let's stop somewhere and eat." She put her hand on his, intertwining their fingers, as she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

Dean found a Biggerson's several miles down the road, so he pulled in and parked. Amie followed him from the car into the restaurant, but while they waited for a table, she squeezed Dean's hand and pointed to the restrooms. He held up five fingers, winking at her. She laughed and crossed the restaurant to the ladies room.

When she stepped from the stall, Shannon was standing in front of the sinks. She smiled carefully at Amie, a hesitant look on her face. Amie stepped up next to her, soaped up her hands and ran them under the water, watching Shannon in the mirror.

The younger girl finally spoke. "I wanted to apologize to you for what happened yesterday, with the vetala. I should have listened to Dean, stayed in the car." She fidgeted nervously, her hands picking at a thread on her jacket. "And I'm sorry about what I said to you yesterday, too. In the car."

Amie pulled several paper towels from the dispenser and dried her hands slowly before answering Shannon. "I appreciate the apology. I'm fine, so let's just forget it, okay? As for what you said, well, you were just being brutally honest, right?" She grabbed the handle of the door, but Shannon put her hand against it, holding it shut.

"Wait," she said. "That's it. Just forget it? I'm legitimately trying to apologize."

Amie looked Sam's girlfriend in the eye. "What is it you want? For me to trip over myself accepting your apology?"

Shannon's eyes widened as Amie spoke. "That's not it. I just wanted to apologize." She took a deep breath. "Look, I was upset with you for leaving Dean because it, it well…I feel like it affected Sam and I's relationship. Those two, they're so close, so weirdly tangled up in each other, that I feel like Sam has suffered as much as Dean over what happened with Mary Grace and then with you leaving. I couldn't say or do anything that made it better, that helped either of them. As I watched Dean spiraling out of control and Sam not able to do anything to stop it, I got angrier and angrier with you. I don't pretend to understand why you left and I don't expect an explanation. I just want you to understand where I'm coming from so maybe we can be friends again."

"I get it, Shannon, I really do," Amie answered. "I know I owe Sam an apology, and an explanation. I knew how my leaving would affect Dean, but I pushed all that away and refused to acknowledge it. I fucked up. I really, really fucked up. I can't go back and change it, no matter how much I wish I could. I have to live with the consequences of my actions. Maybe we can be friends again, but right now, I have to concentrate on fixing what I broke between Dean and I." She watched the younger girl's face as she spoke. "I'm sorry for any problems I caused with you and Sam, but one thing you have to understand, the Winchesters will always be 'weirdly tangled' up in each other. Absolutely no one will ever come between them, not you, not me, not anything. If you're going to be with a Winchester, you have to accept that."

Shannon nodded weakly. "Okay," she mumbled. "But I'm not sure you're right about that."

"Oh, I'm right, trust me," Amie laughed cynically. "It's a lesson you'll learn very quickly." She pulled open the door a couple of inches. "We good?" she asked.

Shannon nodded again, then crossed to the sink. "I'll be there in a minute," she choked out.

Amie was pretty sure Shannon was crying, but she didn't have the emotional strength to deal with that right now, not when she was trying to deal with so many other things—uprooting herself yet again and working at repairing her relationship with Dean being at the top of the list. Instead she yanked the door open and hurried through the restaurant, her eyes searching for him. She finally spotted him and Sam at a table in the back. She slid into the chair next to Dean, her hand immediately taking his. He looked at her quizzically, but she merely shook her head. She looked over at Sam, who had his laptop open on the table.

"Really, Sam? You can't take five minutes off?" Amie asked.

Sam shook his head and sucked soda from a straw, continuing to read whatever was on his computer screen. "Where's Shannon?" he finally asked.

Amie shrugged and looked at the menu, deciding it was best if she didn't answer Sam's question. She was sure he would find out soon enough what had happened. It was nearly five minutes before Shannon finally showed up at the table. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she didn't say a word as she sat silently in the seat next to Sam, occasionally glancing over at his laptop.

Once the fifty-something waitress had taken their order, Amie pushed against the screen of Sam's laptop to get his attention. "Seriously, Sam, what is so important that you have to have that thing out right now?" she asked.

Sam shot her a dirty look, probably because she'd touched his precious laptop, but he followed it quickly with a smile. "Alright, if you must know, I'm trying to figure out why Lyons wanted to talk to you. You aren't even a viable suspect in any of the murders and you gave your statement to that guy…" he glanced at the laptop screen quickly before continuing, "…Deputy Wilhurst already. So, I put out some feelers to see if I could get some information. A couple of emails, a few simple questions, hopefully we can get some answers. Of course, it's not going to look good that you took off at the same time that the murders stopped."

"Well, it won't be the first time I was a wanted fugitive. Remember that time in Boulder when I got arrested for carrying an unlicensed weapon and you guys had to come bail me out?" Amie reminded him. "I'm pretty sure I still have a wanted poster hanging in their police station."

They spent the remainder of the meal rehashing old memories and reminiscing about previous cases, while also carefully avoiding other subjects best left alone. Amie occasionally glanced over at Shannon, but the other female in their foursome seemed preoccupied with something she most certainly wasn't discussing. By the time the meal was over and they were climbing back into the Impala, she seemed to loosen up a little; she'd starting asking questions and laughing at some of the more interesting tales they had to tell. Amie was hopeful that Shannon would move on from whatever 'thing' had been bothering her. She didn't have the patience, or the time, to deal with Shannon's shit when she had Dean Winchester to deal with. And she had a feeling there was going to be a lot to deal with.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Dean slammed the bedroom door hard enough to make the walls shake. Amie shot out of the bed, eyes wide and alert, hand immediately going to the gun she kept on the bedside table.

"What the hell, Dean?" she sputtered, setting her gun down once she realized it was him. She sat back down, glancing at his still neat side of the bed. "You didn't sleep again?"

Dean shook his head as he crossed the room. He sat on the side of the bed and pulled off his boots, as well as his flannel shirt, leaving him in just a t-shirt and jeans. He turned around and threw himself face down on the bed, his head nestled in Amie's lap. He pulled his pillow under his head and wrapped his arms around it.

"What's wrong?" Amie asked quietly. She ran her hands through his hair, then across his shoulders, repeating the circuit again and again.

He finally started to relax just like he knew he would if he came to her. Having her back was a relief, it was one less thing to worry about, but she had also become his reason for getting up every day, for living. When she'd left, he'd only had the revenge to spur him on. And that hadn't been enough.

"Sam and I argued. Again," he mumbled. "I'm really getting tired of fighting with him about Shannon. I found a new job, up in Wisconsin. He wants Shannon to go with us. I don't. Fighting and yelling ensued. I didn't win. So now I'm pissed."

Amie began massaging his shoulders, working out the knots of tension. He snuggled closer to her, moving his arms so they were wrapped around her waist. He closed his eyes and let himself drift away, Amie's touch helping to relax him.

A knock at the door pulled him from the chance at sleep he was so close to obtaining. "Son of a bitch," he growled as he started to get up, but Amie patted his back, muttering "I got it" as she pulled herself away from him. He groaned in protest, grabbing her wrist as she got up. She leaned over and her lips grazed across his ear, sending familiar chills down his spine. He sighed and let her go.

"Hurry up," he ordered.

Since they'd been back, he had hardly let Amie out of his sight. And for what it was worth, she didn't seem to mind. She stuck pretty close to him as well, hanging out in the garage while he worked on Baby, following him to the shooting range or helping him do research on the Mark of Cain. When she wasn't with him, he made sure he knew exactly where she was. He hadn't told her, but he had an irrational fear that she was going to take off again. He kept hoping it would fade the longer she was back, but it hadn't. He even found himself staying awake most nights just watching her sleep, afraid she'd run if he slept. At least he knew if she was wrapped in his arms, she wouldn't go anywhere.

Dean heard Sam's voice, low and quiet, and Amie's whispered answers. It sounded like she was trying to get him to leave. Dean sat up reluctantly and leaned against the headboard.

"Let him in," he grumbled.

Amie opened the door all the way and returned to the bed, sitting between his outstretched legs. He grabbed her waist and pulled her against his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around her.

"Look, Dean, I talked to Shannon," Sam asserted. "She promised she'd stay at the motel and that she won't leave. She can be there to do any research we need. She just wants to go." He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. "I think that's fair."

"Awesome, Sam," Dean replied. "Whatever, I don't care anymore. But you get to babysit her, don't expect me, or Amie for that matter, to do it."

"Alright, so we'll leave in the morning?" Sam asked.

Dean just nodded and dropped his forehead to Amie's shoulder. He didn't feel like dealing with this right now. He just wanted Sam to leave so he could put his head back in Amie's lap and go to sleep. After a few seconds, he heard the door click closed.

"Well, that was awkward," Amie commented. "What is it with you two? It's more than the Shannon thing, isn't it?"

"It's the Shannon thing, but it's more than that," he explained. "Do we have to talk about this now?"

Amie pushed away from him, turned around and took his face in her hands. She scooted as close to him as she could.

"Yeah, I think we do," she whispered. "Talk."

Dean sighed, glaring at Amie. She glared back at him. He could tell by the look on her face that she wouldn't let it rest until he talked. Unfortunately, his dirty looks didn't work on her and she would be perfectly willing to wait him out. His mind raced, desperately trying to put into words all that had happened while she was gone, all of the things he hadn't told her: the possession necessary to save Sam's life, Kevin's near death, Sam's anger when he found out that he'd had a renegade angel in him, and Crowley possessing Sam to boot Gadreel out. Amie didn't know about any of it and he wasn't sure he was ready to tell her. They were just getting back to a good place and he was afraid that the knowledge would negate all the progress they'd made. He wasn't sure how anyone could love him after what he'd done. Sam sure the hell didn't.

So instead of telling her the truth, Dean lied. "I always thought I'd be okay with Sam having a girlfriend, you know? But I'm not. I'm being selfish, I know, but sometimes I need my brother and well, with Shannon around…." Dean trailed off. "For instance, when you were gone, there were a few times I needed someone to talk to and Sam just wasn't…available, let's say. Christ, I sound like a girl."

He pulled away from Amie, got up and crossed the room to the bottle of whiskey sitting on the small table by the door. He poured himself a glass and tossed it back, then immediately poured another one. A lot of what he was saying was actually the truth, though he knew it wasn't what Amie was looking for. That made him feel worse. When he turned around, Amie was standing directly behind him, her hands on her hips and an angry look on her face. She took the bottle from his hand and took a drink, grimacing as the liquid hit her throat. He'd never seen her do that before. He'd only seen her drink whiskey twice; once when she was trying to stitch up a wound on her leg and another time when he'd been supplying it as he tried to stop her from running off half-cocked after a werewolf. He wondered if she knew he was lying. She had a knack for knowing when he wasn't being truthful.

"You do not sound like a girl. You sound like someone who needed his brother and he wasn't there for you," Amie reiterated. "So, you're pissed. I get it. It's always been you and Sam, the Winchesters. Now, things are different." She grabbed his arms and put them around her waist, then snuggled up against him. "Nobody likes change."

God, she didn't realize how right she was. Dean kissed the top of her head, then pushed her backward to the bed until she was seated in the same spot she'd been in before Sam had come in. Then he climbed in and nestled his head in her lap with his arms around her waist. She laughed and resumed rubbing the knots out of his shoulders.

* * *

"Where are we going again?" Amie asked as she threw her duffel in the back of the Impala.

"Janesville, Wisconsin," Dean replied as he opened the driver's side door and slipped behind the wheel. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the seat, wondering why it was that he was always the first one in the car and ready to go.

Once Sam and Shannon were finally in the car, Dean started Baby up and left the garage. He glanced at Amie in the rearview mirror. He didn't like that she was sitting in the back, but she had reminded him that Sam belonged in the front seat with him, so she'd volunteered to sit in the back with Shannon. She caught him looking at her and dropped a wink at him and blew him a kiss before she slipped on her sunglasses. He winked back.

"Did you tell Amie about the job?" Sam asked as he settled in the passenger seat.

"Not yet," Dean replied. "No use explaining it multiple times."

"Sam already told me," Shannon said. "It's some kind of sex demon, right?"

Dean watched Amie in the rearview mirror. Her head popped up and her eyebrows rose from behind her sunglasses. She looked over at Shannon, then at Dean, a slight smirk on her face.

"You're letting females go when there's a sex demon involved?" Amie said, the surprise obvious in her voice. "What are you thinking?" she asked sarcastically.

"I'm thinking that you go where I go," he explained. "Period. We'll deal with the incubus, if it is an incubus, when we have to."

Shannon spoke up from her spot behind Dean. "What difference does it make? You guys are the ones that have to worry about an incubus, not us. They go after males for sex, right?

"No, the _succubus_ goes after males," Amie corrected. "An incubus goes after women. What exactly is happening in Wisconsin?"

"Women dying, I think it was something like seven or eight at last count," Dean explained. "Days before their deaths they all reported some kind of strange encounter, claiming they were drugged and sexually assaulted, only there wasn't any evidence of an assault or even of drugs in their system. When they were found dead a few days later, the life had literally been sucked out of them. It appeared that they had been suffocated, though there was no evidence of that either—no bloodshot eyes or bruising around the nose and mouth. Nothing."

"Are you sure it's an incubus?" Amie inquired.

Dean shook his head. "No, I'm not," he replied. "We'll have to figure out a way to draw it out once we're there."

"I don't think we need to 'figure out' anything," Amie scoffed. "Two females, sitting right here. I'm sure one of us can…."

"No," Sam and Dean said in unison.

"And that's what I figured you'd say," she muttered. "Couple of sexist, simple-minded pains in my ass."

Dean chuckled under his breath. He really didn't want to let Amie, or Shannon for that matter, draw out whatever they were after, but he didn't think they'd have much choice. He and Sam weren't exactly its type. But he was still hoping he would come up with another option before they got to Wisconsin.

* * *

"Thank you, Sheriff Bennett. Please call me if you have any other information," Dean said, handing the Janesville sheriff his FBI business card. He shook the sheriff's hand, then crossed the street to the Impala, where Sam and Amie were waiting.

He stood next to Amie, who was leaning against the hood tugging at her skirt. He shot her an admiring look at her legs, before turning to his brother. "What'd you find out at the coroner's?"

"Not much," Sam replied. "Just reiterated what we already knew—no evidence of sexual assault, no evidence of suffocation, though that appears to be the cause of death, and no drugs were found."

"The sheriff thinks it's a serial killer of some kind, but he is in over his head with this one. He has no idea what he's doing, seemed relieved when I said I was with the feds. He's ready to hand this case over to me," Dean said. He waved a thick folder he was carrying in his hand at them. "Handed me copies of everything, practically begged for my help." He turned to Amie. "What did you find?"

"All of the women were single, not one of them had a steady boyfriend or significant other," she answered. "Families of the murdered women all agreed that not one of them was the type to make up a story about a sexual assault, so the fact that there was no evidence of anything happening was a shock." She slid onto the hood of the car and slipped off her heels, one by one. Dean couldn't help but stare at her legs, again. "But, I think I've got a lead. All of them belonged to this local dating group, Janesville Singles. It's a pretty big group of men and women who get together and do stuff like hiking, fishing, bowling, stuff like that." She held up her phone and scrolled through it. "Every woman's complaint about a sexual assault occurred on the same day that they participated in an activity with the group and every woman died on the same day that they were with the group."

Dean stood up straighter. "Really? Sheriff didn't say a word about that."

"Yeah, well, I got the address of their office in a little strip mall downtown," Amie said. She wiggled her toes, then put her heels back on before sliding to the ground. She grabbed Dean's arm to steady herself. "Let's go check it out."

Dean wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He nuzzled her neck, inhaling the scent of her perfume as he traced her jawline with his nose. She sighed and turned her head to kiss him.

Sam cleared his throat. "Um, guys, I don't think it's common practice for a couple of feds to stand in the parking lot making out."

Dean moved away from Amie, but he kept a hold of her hand, pulling her with him as he opened the back door of the car. She slid past him, purposely brushing against him as she did, and climbed into the car. He took a deep breath and slammed the door behind her. He wondered if there would ever be a time when stuff like that didn't turn him on. He hurriedly climbed into the car and drove the short distance to the address Amie gave him.

He pulled the car into a spot in front of the office of Janesville Singles. When he started to open the Impala's door, Amie put a hand to his shoulder.

"Let me go in," she said. "You guys can wait here."

Dean turned to face her. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said.

Amie was pulling the braid from her hair and running her fingers through it, making it fluff up. She took a tube of lip gloss from her purse and applied it, then to Dean's horror, she unbuttoned the top two buttons on her conservative white shirt.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to grab her from the front seat.

She quickly scooted across the seat away from him. "I'm making sure just enough cleavage is showing. It seems to help when I'm trying to get information out of someone. Guys have a tendency to not think about the answers they're giving when they're preoccupied with staring at a set of breasts. Luckily, I have a set worth looking at."

"I know, that's why I want to know what you're doing," Dean grumbled. "I don't think you need to give away the whole show."

Amie patted his cheek. "I'm not giving anything away, honey, just giving myself a little advantage."

"I don't like it," he shot back.

"I figured as much, but nobody said you had to," she admitted. "I'll be right back."

Amie stepped out of the car and headed for the dating group's front door. Dean cringed at the extra wiggle she was noticeably putting in her walk. He glanced at Sam, who had his hand over his mouth, obviously trying to keep the laughter Dean could see in his eyes from coming out of his mouth.

"It's not funny," Dean muttered.

"Actually, it is," Sam replied. "Or you are anyway."

Dean slumped in the seat and kept his eyes on Amie through the large plate glass window. She sauntered up to the twenty something guy behind the counter and leaned forward, both elbows on the counter, pushing her boobs right into the guy's face. He could see the stupid kid's eyes widen slightly and then he was answering Amie's questions, even though he was definitely not looking her in the eyes while he did it. They talked for several minutes, and Dean could see that Amie was in full flirt mode and the guy was a Chatty Cathy, falling over himself to answer her questions. Finally, after he handed her what looked like a brochure, she stood up and lightly touched his arm before exiting the office. Dean was none too pleased to see the kid staring at his girlfriend's ass in her tight skirt as she left.

Amie yanked the door closed behind her as she clambered into the car. She tossed the brochure over the front seat into Dean's lap. "The group is getting together tonight. Bowling, I think the guy said. I think I should go. And don't you dare say no, Dean. I'm the only option. Do you really want to let Shannon go in?"

"Absolutely not!" Sam said.

Dean shook his head, knowing she was right. This reminded him of the time he had to let her go on a date with a demon. He'd been none too happy about that either.

"Why do we always have cases that involve you going on a date?" he mumbled as he started the car.

* * *

Dean sat at the tiny motel table and grabbed his phone, sending a quick text message to Sam to let him know they'd be leaving in a few minutes. He and Shannon were already at the bowling alley, checking things out and staking claim to one of the lanes. Dean wanted to make sure he could see Amie and watch every move she made.

When Amie finally emerged from the bathroom, looking effortlessly gorgeous as usual, he seriously considered calling the whole thing off. She'd only been back a couple of weeks, and since she hadn't hunted for quite a while, he was worried about her being alone. She'd been hurt on the hunt for the vetala and he'd been with her, so he could only begin to imagine the trouble she could get into alone.

"Knock it off, Dean," she ordered, giving him a knowing look.

"What?" he said, feigning innocence. "I didn't say anything." He really hated it when she did stuff like that, seemed to know what he was thinking without him saying anything. He tried to shake it off. "Let's go." He grabbed his keys and held the motel room door open for her.

They drove to the bowling alley in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Amie was staring out the passenger side window, her leg bouncing nervously. Dean stretched across the seat and took her hand.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "Just a little nervous. I haven't hunted alone since before the pregnancy. I'm worried that I'll be off my game."

Dean could only nod in agreement. He couldn't reassure her because he was concerned about the same thing. Hopefully hunting was like riding a bike or sex, once you learned you never forgot how to do it. "I'll be there, just a few steps away if you need me," he said, hoping it would help to calm her down. He turned into the lot of the bowling alley and stopped about fifty yards from the entrance.

Amie slid across the seat and gave Dean a chaste peck on the lips. "That's why I'm okay with going in there. I know you've got my back." She slid out of the car before he could say anything. He watched her walk through the automatic doors until he lost sight of her, then he parked the Impala. He hurried inside, not wanting her to be out of his sight for too long.

The bowling alley was crowded and loud, between people yelling, the falling pins, and the crashing balls and the loud bubblegum pop music being piped through the sound system, Dean could barely hear himself think. This was why he avoided places like this at all costs. He glanced around until he saw Sam waving at him from the last lane against the wall. He didn't see Amie anywhere. He pushed his way through the crowd until he got to Sam and Shannon.

"Hey," he said to his brother. "Have you seen Amie?"

Sam pointed to a large group of people about six lanes away. Dean scanned the group until he found Amie sitting down putting on a pair of bowling shoes. She'd already attracted several guys, including the young guy she'd talk to at the group's office. It looked like there were only three other females in attendance and at least seven guys. That wasn't going to make figuring out which one was the incubus easy. He turned back to his brother, who was holding out a beer. Shannon tried to hand him a pair of shoes, but he rolled his eyes at her and turned and sat at the console.

"Not bowling," he muttered. "Watching."

He settled in to watch Amie and the assholes who were currently falling all over themselves to get her attention. It was going to be a long night.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note: Chapter includes an allusion to non-consensual sex.**_

**Chapter Nine**

Amie was fairly confident that she had narrowed down who the incubus was to one of about three of the guys in the Janesville Singles group. Now if only she had some holy water to throw on them, things could move along and she could stop playing nice with a bunch of guys who were a bit too touchy-feely for her liking. Of course, there was no casual way to toss water in the face of a potential sex demon without possibly causing a riot, so really, what was she gonna do?

She glanced over at Dean and gave him a quick smile. He hadn't moved from his seat behind the console between the lanes all night, which was just fine with her; she felt better having him there.

A light tap on the shoulder drew her attention away from Dean. She turned around to see Brett, the young guy who worked at the office of the singles group, holding out a beer. He had been particularly attentive this evening, putting himself at the top of the "potential demon" list Amie had in her head.

"Thanks," she replied, taking a sip from the bottle.

"What do you say we get out of here?" he asked casually. "We could head back to my place, drink beer, watch Netflix maybe. Go someplace where we can hear ourselves think. You game?"

She smiled at the younger man, flinching internally at the thought of having to flirt with someone at least fifteen years younger than her. But, he was her number one suspect, so she figured she'd better play it up. She took another sip of her beer to steady her nerves.

"You know what? That actually sounds like a great idea," she said. "But are you sure you're okay with taking off and leaving the group, I don't know, unattended?"

"They're all grown-ups, they'll be fine," he laughed.

Amie laughed along with him. "Okay," she agreed. "Just let me go to the little girls' room and then we can go. I didn't drive though, is that cool?"

"That's actually perfect," Brett muttered. "Meet me by the front door?"

She nodded as she grabbed her purse and headed to the ladies room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dean get up to follow her. She stepped into the bathroom and quickly checked under the stall doors, then for good measure, she pushed each door open to make sure no one was in the restroom with her. She opened the door leading to the hallway where Dean was trying to act casual as he loitered by the water fountain. She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the restroom, locking the door behind him.

"I think it's that young guy…" Dean said.

"I'm pretty sure it's Brett…" Amie mumbled at the same time.

Dean nodded. "Of course," he agreed. "So what are you going to do?"

"He asked me to go home with him," she answered. "So I am."

Dean's face went immediately blank. Amie could see every muscle in his body tensing as she spoke and she knew it was taking a lot of self-control for him to not explode. She put her hand on his arm and she could feel the tension crawling through his forearm as he clenched and unclenched his hands. She slid her hand down his arm and took his hand.

"But you're going to follow me, right?" she asked as she squeezed his hand.

"Of course," he said. "Stall for a few minutes so we can get out of here, will you?" As he pulled her into a tight hug, she inhaled the familiar scent that was all Dean—a combination of Old Spice, whiskey and gunpowder. He kissed her forehead before stepping away. "Give me five minutes." He gestured to the door, so Amie unlocked it and stuck her head out. When she didn't see anyone close by, she opened it wide and Dean slipped out, his hand squeezing her waist as he passed her.

Amie took a couple of deep breaths, then stepped over to the only sink in the restroom. She took her time washing her hands and applying some fresh lip gloss. She waited a couple more minutes then checked the time. It had been long enough. She pulled open the door and walked down the short hallway to the main room of the bowling alley. She could see Brett standing by the door waiting. She looked over to the lane where Dean, Sam and Shannon had been just a short time ago and saw several couples putting on shoes and picking out bowling balls. Good, they were gone, which meant Dean was waiting in the Impala to follow her to Brett's.

She plastered a smile on her face and sauntered across the spacious room to where the suspected demon stood waiting. His eyes shifted oddly as she approached and she could have sworn for a split second they went all black. God, she hoped that meant her suspicions were correct. Otherwise this had been a colossal waste of time.

Brett held the door for her and led the way to a relatively new Ford pick-up. Amie whistled appreciatively. "Who knew running a singles dating group was such a lucrative business?" she said.

The possible demon laughed. "Yeah, who'd a thought? Surprisingly, people are willing to do just about anything to find the right person. You'd be surprised."

"Actually, I probably wouldn't," she mumbled as she walked around the back of the vehicle.

Amie climbed in the truck as Brett made his way to the driver's side. He drove them a short distance to a small house in a homey neighborhood. Not exactly the type of place one would expect a demon to hang out. Maybe she had made a mistake. As she jumped from the truck, she checked the street behind her, but she didn't see any sign of the Impala. Dammit, where was he?

"You okay?" Brett asked from the bottom of the steps leading to the front door. "Having second thoughts?"

"What? No, of course not," she responded. She followed him to the front door. While he unlocked it, Amie checked the street again and was relieved when she saw Baby swing around the corner and come to a stop, then Dean and Sam step from the car. Sam leaned into the back seat briefly before slamming the door shut.

Relieved that Dean was close by, Amie followed Brett through the door, down a short hallway and into a small living room. He walked to the refrigerator in the attached kitchen and she made her way across the room and sat on a brown, rather lumpy couch. As she took off her jacket she looked around, carefully taking in her surroundings. The house was sparsely furnished, with no extraneous items anywhere—no pictures or knick knack type stuff at all. It was neat, especially as bachelor pads go.

Brett sat next to her on the sofa, a glass of red wine in his hand. "I thought wine seemed like a better idea," he murmured.

She took the proffered glass, though she wasn't much of a wine drinker. As she took a sip, she noticed that Brett had moved closer, his knee was now resting against hers and his arm was slung over the back of the couch. He ran his thumb over her shoulder and even through the rather thick t-shirt she was wearing, she could feel how incredibly cold his hand was. Amie took another drink of the wine, trying to settle her nerves.

Brett leaned over her, his eyes boring into hers. He moved closer, until his entire body was flush against hers, his arm coming down to encircle her waist. When she tried to pull away, he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. She felt herself drifting, getting lost in the black pools of his eyes. Her limbs were starting to feel weighted and heavy, and she was afraid that it was just a matter of seconds before she couldn't move at all. Cold engulfed every inch of her body; not just a slight chill, but extreme cold, the kind that can cause hypothermia, the kind of cold that turns your lips blue in seconds. As she watched, a thin, white wisp of air slipped from Brett's mouth and made its way toward her, sliding its way between her lips.

As the white wisp of air made its way through her body, Amie's back arched, electricity shooting through her, spreading to tips of her fingers and toes. The cold settled over her completely; it felt like it was moving through her veins. She struggled to keep her head together, to think coherently. She knew Dean was outside and she knew that any minute he could come through the door, the window or whatever, she just needed to keep it together until that happened. But concentrating was becoming more difficult especially when she felt the familiar heat of arousal pooling in her stomach. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire. The contrasting heat and cold flowing through her body was causing staggering pain.

The demon laid her on the couch, then stood up and moved away from her, not breaking eye contact. If she hadn't been watching every move he was making, she would have sworn he was right next to her, running his hands over her body, touching her bare skin, his breath blowing across her neck. She felt herself involuntarily opening herself to him and she knew what those women had been talking about. This was a violation.

As she lie there helpless, she saw the white wisp flowing out of her and into Brett, a continuous circle between the two of them. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her air passage closing. She struggled to breathe, knowing she wouldn't be able to. Brett laughed low in his throat and he seemed to glow with an indescribable energy. She felt her hands clawing at her throat, trying to get air in any way she could. Where the fuck was Dean?

Just when she sure she was going to pass out, she heard a loud crash. Brett whipped his head around to look in the direction of the sound, breaking eye contact with Amie. Air suddenly rushed back into her lungs. She took a deep breath and threw herself to the floor. She tried getting to her feet, but she didn't have the strength so she started crawling away from the now preoccupied demon. She rolled to her back and scrambled to get the angel blade she had tucked inside her boot as she scooted around the corner of the couch.

Another crash came from the direction of the front door and Amie figured it had to be Dean and Sam kicking it in. From her vantage point on the floor, she saw Brett move cautiously toward the short hallway that led to the front door. He seemed to have temporarily forgotten about her. Finally, she yanked the angel blade free of her boot. She pulled herself to her knees, using the arm of the couch to steady herself. She stopped and took several breaths, trying to clear her head.

She heard a third and final crash, then the glorious sound of Dean and Sam calling her name. Summoning the last bit of willpower she had, Amie pushed herself to her feet.

"Sam! Dean!" she hollered. "I'm in here!"

Brett swung around, his eyes wide. "Sam and Dean Winchester?" he said. "So you're _that_ Amie. Abaddon has been looking for you." He hurried across the living room, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, it must be my lucky day. The Queen will be very pleased when I tell her what I found."

Amie saw Dean enter the living room just as the demon reached her. She brought her hands up and shoved the angel blade into the demon's chest as hard as she could. Brett fell forward, knocking her over with him. She pushed herself to the side as she fell in order to avoid being crushed under him. She hit the ground hard, the demon sprawled across her legs. Within seconds, Dean was at her side and Sam was pulling the dead body away from her.

"Hey baby," Dean said. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. A little woozy, but I think I'll be alright." She took a deep, stuttering breath. "Did you hear what he said?" she asked. "Abaddon is looking for me?" She let Dean take her hand and help her to her feet. The second his hand touched hers, she felt an intense arousal shoot through her. She stepped away from him, trying to concentrate.

"Yes," Dean nodded. "But why the hell is she looking for you this time?" He looked around the room, then took Amie's elbow, prepared to move her as quickly as possible.

Amie felt her breathing accelerate, almost as if she was panting. Dean's touch on her elbow was driving her insane; his rough hand on the soft skin of her arm as he absentmindedly traced circles on the inside of her elbow was causing electric sparks of almost agonizing want to roll through her. When he turned toward her, she practically threw herself at him, her lips attaching to his, one hand pushing at his jacket and up under his shirt, the other fumbling with the button on his jeans. She forgot everything and everyone, all she could focus on was Dean and the overwhelming desire she suddenly had to make love to him.

"Holy shit," he muttered as he tried to push Amie away. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know, I can't stop," she moaned in his ear, as she clutched at him. "I need you, Dean. Now." She resumed her attempts to remove Dean's clothing as she trailed kisses up his neck to his jawline.

"It must be residual effects from the incubus," Sam explained. "It's…." He took a deep breath before continuing. "It's lingering in her system, making her…well, you know…horny." he finished awkwardly.

"C'mon, baby. Now is definitely not the time," Dean said as he tried to push her away again. She let out a low painful groan. Talk about an itch you couldn't scratch. Amie continued tugging at the waistband of his jeans, her other hand rubbing the slight bulge beneath his jeans, which to her pleasure was growing under her skilled touch.

"Little help, Sam?" he inquired of his brother as he struggled to push her away.

Sam stepped behind Amie and wrapped his huge arms around her. "Sorry," he muttered quietly as he picked her and threw her over his shoulder. Dean stepped up beside his brother and ran a finger down her face.

She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" she said.

Dean took her chin in his hand and kissed her softly on the lips. "Yes," he said quietly. "If you can keep your hands to yourself, then I'll let Sam put you down."

"I don't want to keep my hands to myself," she pleaded. "Just tell Sam to give us ten minutes alone." She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward her.

Dean laughed. "As much as I'd love to, we need to tear this place apart, find out as much information as we can and then get out of here." He kissed her again, which was not helping. "Later, I promise." He turned to his brother. "Sammy, take her to the car. She can sit with Shannon. If you have to, cuff her to the steering wheel so she stays put."

Amie watched Dean begin to rummage through Brett's belongings as Sam carried her from the house. Once they were away from Dean, Sam put her on the ground.

"Will you walk to the car or am I going to have to carry you?" he asked.

"I'll walk. It's better, now that I'm away from Dean," she replied. "My research is in the car, in my backpack. I'll look it over while you go help him. Maybe I can figure out what is going on with me." Sam nodded but he watched carefully as they walked, ready to grab her should she try to take off.

She led the way, down the street and around the corner, until they reached the Impala. She opened the driver's side door and slid behind the wheel. The minute she was in the car, the arousal hit her like a tidal wave out of nowhere. It was the smell; the entire car smelled like Dean. It was like being wrapped in his arms, her nose pressed against his chest. She fought to keep herself under control, but instead she felt herself involuntarily sliding across the seat toward the passenger door. Before she could get out, Sam grabbed her wrist. When she turned to look at him, he held a pair of cuffs in front of her and shook them.

She whimpered, but Sam just smiled at her. "Your choice."

Amie moved back to the center of the seat, put her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands and took several deep breaths through her mouth. She just needed to concentrate. "Okay, I can do this," she said.

Sam turned to Shannon, who was sitting in the backseat with an extremely confused look on her face.

"Hand me her backpack, will you?" he said.

Shannon picked it up from the floor and handed it to Sam. He opened it and pulled out a manila file folder, which he handed to Amie. "See if you put anything in there about what is wrong with you. I'm going to go help Dean." He looked over the seat at Shannon. "Call me if she tries to leave the car," he ordered. He slammed the car door and went back up the street to the demon's house.

"What _is_ wrong with you?" Shannon asked.

Amie sighed and looked at the other woman in the rearview mirror. "Incubus did something to me," she muttered as she opened the folder. She quickly flipped through it. "I know I saw something in here about residual effects of an incubus attack."

"It attacked you," Shannon nearly shouted. "What the hell? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Except when I get around Dean. Then I can't seem to control myself," Amie explained. "All I can think about is sex, all I want is sex."

"Oh, wow" Shannon breathed. "But only with Dean, right?" Amie could hear the jealous undertone in Shannon's words. She rolled her eyes, irritated with the younger woman.

"Found it!" Amie exclaimed. She read from her notes. "Women that have survived an attack by an incubus report a marked increase in lustful feelings, above and beyond the norm. These feelings are intensified when the subject is in contact with someone they are particularly attracted to. The length of time this condition lasts is dependent on the amount of exposure to the incubus." She ruffled through the papers, trying to see if she could find any other useful information. "That's it. I can't find anything else. It doesn't say if there is anything you can do to speed up the process or make it stop." She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. That wasn't what she wanted to hear.

* * *

It was nearly an hour before Dean and Sam returned to the car. Amie had dozed off, leaning against the driver's side door with her jacket under her head. It was a restless sleep though; it was almost as if she couldn't get comfortable in her own skin. She found herself constantly twitching and fidgeting, shifting frequently in an attempt to ease the constant ache she felt below her waist.

A faint knock on the outside of the car woke her from her uneasy slumber. She sat up and slid her hand into her jacket pocket, ready to pull her gun if necessary. The driver's side door opened and Dean leaned into the car. She practically threw herself into his arms, raining kisses across his face, her hands clutching his shirt.

"Oh my god, finally. Where have you been?" she said huskily, her breath catching in her throat now that she was in his arms. She pulled him against her and kissed him, long and deep.

Dean broke off the kiss after an uncomfortable sound from Sam. He slid into the car next to her while Sam climbed in the back with Shannon. "Sorry, we wanted to make sure we didn't miss anything."

Amie barely heard what he was saying, she was busy running her hand up and down his leg, her eyes roaming across the muscles in his thighs. They needed to get someplace where they could be alone, soon. She wasn't sure how much longer she could control herself. She didn't even realize her hand had slid all the way up Dean's thigh or that she was again resting it on that slight bulge in his jeans until he took her hand and put it on his knee, wrapping his fingers around hers. When she met his eyes, he shook his head slightly. He leaned over and put his mouth to her ear.

"Try to behave yourself for just a little longer. We'll get to the motel and then I promise I will take care of you," he whispered. He kissed her earlobe, then pulled away.

He started the Impala and pulled away from the curb. Amie took a deep breath through her mouth, trying desperately to calm her nerves and get herself under control. It was increasingly difficult with Dean sitting right next to her, his hand holding hers, his leg resting against hers and his scent engulfing her. She pulled her hand away and moved across the seat as far from him as she could get. It helped, but not much.

She looked at Dean and gave him a sheepish grin. He smiled at her and gave her a quick wink. "Sorry," he mouthed. She laughed.

As they drove to the motel, the boys explained what they had found in the incubus' house. Sam explained that while the demon had not been your typical "sell your soul to me" kind of demon, he'd definitely been cultivating souls.

"He kept a list," Dean broke in. "A list of women he has killed over the last year. He took their souls and passed them on to Abaddon. We just don't know why yet."

"Did you find anything about me?" Amie asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, it was literally the last thing we found, scribbled on a notepad in the back of a desk drawer. It was your name and written beneath it were the words "find her" underlined three times. There was a phone number written under it." He pointed to the back seat with his thumb. "Sam's on it."

"I'll figure it out, I just need some time," Sam promised.

The remainder of the ride to the motel was quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Dean pulled into the motel parking lot just fifteen minutes after they left the demon's house. After he put Baby in park, Amie saw him make eye contact with Sam in the rearview mirror. A few seconds later, the back door opened and Sam and Shannon stepped out. Amie saw them cross the lot and go into the motel office. When they came out, Sam was carrying a key in his hand.

Dean opened the driver's side door, took her hand and helped her from the car. They followed the other couple down the cracked sidewalk until they reached the room they were sharing. Dean took his key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Sam and Shannon stepped in and made quick work of gathering the few items they had spread around the room. Once they had all of their things together, they moved to the door.

"We're in 206, just three doors down," Sam told them. "Have fun." He yanked the door closed. Dean crossed the room and locked the door, slipping the flimsy chain in place as the sounds of his brother's laughter faded away. He turned to Amie.

"Alone at last," he smirked.

Amie stood in front of him, her eyes locked with his as she slipped out of her leather jacket, tossing it onto the end of one of the beds. She kicked her boots off, and quickly slid off her socks. Dean crossed his arms, leaned against the door and smiled.

"Don't stop now, baby," he smirked. "It's just getting good."

Amie paused for just a second, the sound of Dean's voice sending chills through her body. She slowly slid the t-shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor, then she unbuttoned just the top button of her jeans as she watched Dean's eyes roam across her body. Finally, she shimmied out of her jeans, pushing them away with her foot once they were off. She stood in front of him in just her bra and underwear, her breathing fast and unsteady, her heart pounding in anticipation.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked.

It was all the invitation she needed. She practically launched herself across the room into his waiting arms. Without hesitating, she sought out his lips, her teeth grazing his lower lip as she nipped at his mouth, demanding entrance. Her hands tore at his clothes, pushing his jacket and flannel to the floor. She slid her hands up under the tight white t-shirt he wore, his skin hot against her cold hands. Dean put his hands on her waist, his thumbs resting on her hips. He was letting her take charge and she had no problem with that. The lust was coursing through her again, washing everything away. All of her focus was on Dean, getting him out of his clothes and into one of those two beds.

Amie pushed his shirt up over his stomach and chest, her lips following it as she pulled it over his head. She tossed it to the floor then moved her hands to his waist, where she deftly unbuttoned his jeans, her hand slipping past the edge of his boxers. She felt Dean's grip on her waist tighten as she grasped him, tugging lightly on his burgeoning erection. She moaned, the feel of Dean in her hands fueling the fire burning in her.

Though she didn't want to break contact with him for even a second, she managed to pull away from him, take his hand and lead him to the bed. She pointed at his boot clad feet, laughing as he struggled to kick them off. Once they were off, Amie pushed him until he was lying on the bed, then she slid her hands into the waistband of his jeans and pulled them off. He watched her, propped on his elbows, a smirk on his gorgeous face.

Once Dean was out of his cumbersome clothes, she straddled him, her hands on either side of his head. She leaned over him, her breasts brushing his chest as she kissed him. His hands encircled her waist yet again, then he slid them into her panties, his hands cupping her bottom, squeezing lightly. Amie groaned and rubbed herself against the man beneath her. She held his head between her hands, her kisses becoming more desperate and needy. Dean put his arm around her and unhooked her bra, yanked it off and threw it over his shoulder. He rubbed one thumb across her nipple as he slid the other down her waist, past her hip and between her legs. When she felt his fingers brush lightly against the thin material covering her, she shivered in anticipation, a low groan falling from her lips. She squirmed under his touch. She didn't think she could wait any longer.

Dean seemed to understand what she needed. His fingers twisted in her underwear and he pulled them off her hips, then he sent them to join the other clothing on the floor. He moved her so she was just over his massive erection, then he slowly lowered her onto himself. Amie nearly screamed in satisfaction, her back arching, an orgasm immediately shooting through her.

"Oh my god," she moaned. "Yes…" She dug her manicured nails into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped marks on his skin.

Amie set the pace, moving at an almost maniacal speed, another orgasm just within her reach. Dean moved beneath her, thrusting deep and hard, his rough, calloused hands holding her hips as they moved. When the second orgasm finally hit, she threw her head back and let the waves of unbelievable pleasure wash over her. Dean's grip tightened on her hips and his back arched under her as he climaxed. Amie collapsed against his chest, trying to catch her breath.

Dean kissed the top of her head. "Wow," he mumbled.

She felt a giggle slip from her lips. She nodded against his chest. "Wow is right," she agreed.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note: Portions of this chapter rely heavily on episode 9.15 Thinman, written by Jenny Klein and directed by Jeanott Szwarc. If the dialogue or descriptions seems familiar, that's why. Obviously, lots of spoilers!**_

**Chapter Ten**

Dean sat in the dark motel room, the flashing neon vacancy sign outside the only light filtering through the window. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass in circles, sleep evading him. He was growing accustomed to not sleeping. When Amie had first come back, he'd been able to sleep in three or four hour chunks. But over the last few weeks, sleep had once again become a stranger to him. There were too many things on his mind, too many things for one person to handle—the hunt for Abaddon, his inability to find Crowley, and most importantly, the still overwhelming need for revenge he felt. He swallowed the whiskey in the glass, his throat long immune to the burn normal people felt.

He watched Amie sleep, the sheet twisted around her body, one arm thrown over her head. She was sleeping like she was dead, exhausted after they had made love at least four times, though that number could be wrong; he was pretty sure he'd lost count at some point. The incubus had really done something to her, she'd practically been insatiable. Not that he minded, making love to her was definitely not a chore. When she'd finally pushed herself away from Dean, albeit reluctantly, she had hardly been able to keep her eyes open. She'd stretched out on the bed, holding one of his hands between hers and immediately falling asleep. He'd laid next to her, hoping against hope that he would be able to fall asleep just this once. He gave up after an hour of staring at the ceiling, Amie breathing softly next to him.

He'd crawled out of the bed to sit on the cheap motel couch, a bottle of Jack Daniels on the table in front of him, the dark surrounding him. That had been three hours ago. Now, he couldn't take his eyes off of the woman sleeping across the room. How someone could look gorgeous when her hair was a mess and her mouth was hanging open, tiny snores leaving her mouth, was anyone's guess, but she managed to do it. She shifted slightly, the sheet slipping down, leaving her naked from the waist up. When Dean saw her shiver, he set his glass on the small coffee table and quickly crossed the room. He knelt on the floor at the side of the bed and pulled the sheet up to her shoulders. He tucked a strand of hair that had fallen over her face behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her face, tracing her jaw and cheekbone. He couldn't count the number of times he had done this since she returned, sat next to her as she slept, watching her, touching her lightly. His relief at having her back with him was palpable, so tangible he felt like he could touch it.

A soft buzzing from the other side of the room pulled him from his train of thought. He stood up and crossed the room, picking up his cell phone from the table next to the whiskey bottle. It was Sam.

"You awake?" the text message read.

"Yes," he typed back.

"Meet me at the car," Sam replied.

Dean grabbed his boots and jacket, quickly putting them on before he silently slipped out the door. He hurried down the sidewalk and across the lot to where he had parked the Impala. Sam was sitting on the hood. Dean sat next to him.

"What did you find?" he asked his younger brother.

"There's an APB out on Amie, issued by one Detective Russell Lyons in Indianapolis, Indiana. She's wanted for questioning in regards to the murders of five men and the disappearance of another," Sam explained.

"Shit," Dean muttered. He ran his hand over his face and through his hair. "That's gonna piss her off."

Sam continued. "I called the Indianapolis police department, talked to the head detective in their homicide department. He said Amie's not even a legitimate suspect in those murders. He was going to check into the reasoning behind the APB. He also mentioned that Detective Lyons hasn't seemed like himself lately, that he's been a little off."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he's possessed. One of Abaddon's flunkies. And I'll tell you the reason for the APB. Abaddon. For some reason she wants Amie and she's using any available resource to find her," Dean growled.

"Why though?" Sam wondered aloud. "What could she possibly want with Amie?"

Dean rolled his shoulders, the tension building in every muscle in his body. He absentmindedly ran his left hand down his right arm. He could have sworn he felt heat coming from the Mark, but it was most likely his imagination.

"My best guess? She wants Amie so she can use her to get to me. She's knows she can't get to you, so she'll take the next best thing, the woman I love. If she kills me before I get the First Blade, she is home free," Dean pointed out. "No one can stop her."

"So, what do you want to do?" Sam asked.

"Take Amie back to the bunker, lock her down. Find Crowley and the First Blade. Then find Abaddon," Dean immediately answered. "But that will not go over well with Amie at all."

Sam chuckled under his breath. "No, you got that right. She'll want to help. After all, Abaddon is partly responsible for Mary Grace's death, right? Amie will be all over helping to solve that problem."

"Maybe, maybe not," Dean shrugged. "We'll see. I'll talk to her." He slid off the hood and turned to his brother. "Thanks Sammy," he said.

Sam nodded. Dean could feel his brother's eyes on him as he walked away. He knew Sam was worried about him, but he really didn't want to talk about it, not with him, not even with Amie. His focus was narrowing, the line was being drawn and he knew what he needed to do.

He opened the motel room door as quietly as he could and slipped inside. Amie was still asleep. He resumed his position on the couch, drink in hand, eyes on the sleeping form of one of the two most important people in his world.

* * *

"What time are we leaving?" Amie asked as she stepped from the bathroom. Dean looked up from his seat across the room. She was brushing out her hair, having just taken a shower. She was wearing a thin, lacy bra and matching underwear and nothing else and damn if it wasn't turning him on.

He glanced at his watch. "Eight. Why?"

"Curious," she shrugged, pulling her hair back into a thick ponytail.

Dean rose from his seat and sidled up to her, grabbing her waist. He caressed the bare skin above the waistband of her underwear, his finger skimming the anti-possession tattoo on her right hip. He ducked his head and captured her lips in a slow, easy kiss, his tongue easing into her mouth. She responded immediately, rising up on her toes to meet him, her mouth opening to take him in. He slid his hands down and cupped her ass, picking her up. She wrapped her long legs around his waist and tangled her hands in his hair. He turned and pressed Amie against the wall by their bed, his hands roaming across every inch of bare skin on her freshly showered body. Her nails dug into his shoulders and her tongue darted in and out of his mouth. He moved his hand up her naked leg and past the lacy underwear she was wearing. He rubbed his thumb across her clit and was rewarded with a low moan.

He moved his hands across Amie's very soft and supple body, wanting to touch her everywhere, all at once. Ever since she'd come back to him, he hadn't been able to get enough of her. He found himself constantly needing to touch her, almost as if he was trying to lay claim to her.

"Dean, what are you doing?" she mumbled, her breath leaving her in exaggerated puffs.

"Nothing," he teased as he ran his finger slowly up and down the slit between her legs before gently sliding it between her folds. He nibbled her neck, right under her ear just like she liked. He pumped his finger slowly in and out, enjoying the feel of her succumbing to him, her hips surging forward, pushing into his hand. He added a second finger and another deeper moan slipped from Amie's lips.

"Oh my god," she whispered, her head thrown back and her eyes squeezed shut, ecstasy coloring her features a rosy pink.

"Mm, that's it baby," he whispered in her ear. "Just let it go." He increased the tempo of his hand against her, his thumb rubbing incessant circles as his fingers pumped in and out of her and his mouth explored her neck.

Amie buried her face in his shoulder, a slight scream escaping her lips. Dean let her ride out the orgasm, using the wall as leverage to hold her up. Once the orgasm had run its course, she sagged against him, out of breath and flushed. He turned and laid her on the bed, but he continued kissing her neck and jaw.

"Holy shit," she finally managed to squeak out. "What was that for?"

He shrugged, his lips still against her throat, hovering just above the racing pulse in her neck. "You were standing there in your underwear, looking incredibly sexy, and I just needed to touch you." He bit into her neck. "Everywhere," he growled.

"Hmm, touch me again," she murmured, her hands slipping around his waist and pulling him against her.

Instead he looked at his watch. Despite the overwhelming desire to make love to her, he sat up, pulling her with him. "Nope, finish getting dressed. Sam and Shannon will be waiting for us. Besides, I'm not sure I can function after last night," he laughed.

Dean smacked her on the butt as she reluctantly stood up. She shot him a grin over her shoulder before heading toward the bathroom. Suddenly she swung around and tackled him to the bed, a huge smile on her face. She straddled him, a hand on either side of his head, and kissed him deeply. "I missed you Dean Winchester," she said as she pulled away. "I missed you a lot."

"I love you," he whispered.

"Mm, I love you, too," she replied as she kissed him again, then got up and returned to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Dean pulled on the rest of his clothes, then started throwing his stuff into his duffel bag. He needed to talk to Amie about Abaddon, but it was not a conversation he was looking forward to having. He was avoiding it, but he just needed to suck it up and talk to her.

He threw his loaded duffel to the couch and knocked on the bathroom door. "Amie, baby, we need to talk," he called.

She pulled open the door, fully dressed this time. She padded out of the bathroom in her bare feet and tossed her things into her open suitcase. "Okay, what's up?" she asked, pulling her shoes on.

Dean quickly told her the information Sam had relayed to him the previous night. He could see the change in her demeanor as he spoke, the irritation and the anger increasing with every word he spoke. If there was anything she wanted, it was to avoid getting involved in his fight with Abaddon. Shit, he knew what she really wanted was for him to give up his insane quest to find the Knight of Hell and kill her. By the time he was done speaking she was sitting on the edge of the bed, a dejected look on her face.

"Let me guess, you want to lock me up in the bunker," she finally said.

"Yes," Dean replied. "And no. I know that's not what you want. But I also know you don't want to get involved in my hunt for Abaddon. I'm not sure what to do. So you tell me what you want me to do."

"Honestly?" she mumbled quietly. "I want you to kill the bitch. She took my daughter away from me." Amie wiped a tear from her cheek. Dean moved to go to her, but she put her hand up and shook her head. "But so did Malachi and Bartholomew. Even Metatron is somewhat responsible. I want them all dead. But it's that god damn vicious circle again. Where does it stop? When does it end? When they're all dead or when you're dead?" She must have noticed him rubbing the Mark through his shirtsleeve, because she stopped and took a deep breath. "Tell me Dean, what exactly is that Mark doing to you?" she asked, pointing to his arm.

He was going to answer her, he honestly was, but a knock on the door interrupted them. He rose to his feet, Amie watching him with an unreadable expression on her face. He crossed the room and looked through the peephole before letting Sam and Shannon in.

"Ready?" Sam asked.

Dean saw Amie glance at him before she nodded at Sam. "Almost," she murmured. "Can you give us a minute?"

Sam looked between the two of them, took Shannon's hand and stepped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Dean?" Amie said, her voice serious. "What is the Mark of Cain doing to you?"

He took a deep breath, the truth ready to spill from his lips. But then he looked into her eyes and saw the worry and concern and he knew he didn't want to make it any worse. She had been through too much already and he desperately wanted to protect her, keep her safe, and keep her away from anything that would hurt her in anyway. So he lied.

"Nothing," he said. "It's not doing anything to me. I'm fine." He stood up, picked up his bag and opened the door. "Let's go." He waited while she zipped her suitcase closed and walked toward him. She stopped in front him, put a hand on his chest and looked into his eyes. Her blue eyes flashed, but Dean didn't know if it was with worry or anger.

"I hate it when you lie to me," Amie whispered. She kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth. "But I love you, so I'll let it go. For now. But don't think I won't be expecting an answer eventually." She pushed past him and started for the car.

Dean shot a cursory glance over his shoulder into the room, then slammed the door shut. He leaned against the cheap wood door and watched Amie walk away. He hated that she always knew when he was lying and that she always called him out on it. He was going to have to find a way to tell her the truth, even if it hurt her. Or him.

* * *

They had only been back at the bunker for a couple of days when Dean stumbled on a new case. A girl in Washington was killed alone in her bedroom. The last picture had captured an image of something standing behind her. Since things had been tense and awkward ever since they had come back from the incubus case, not only with Amie, but Sam too, Dean decided maybe a few days away, hunting on his own, would be a good idea. Except when he'd tried to leave, both Sam and Amie had insisted on coming along. Shannon had decided to stay behind.

The cross country trip to Washington went by faster than Dean had expected. Amie sat quietly in the backseat, reading, watching the scenery or sleeping. He and Sam took turns driving. There was very little conversation between the three of them. There didn't seem to be a lot to say.

Once they arrived in Springdale, they found a motel and set Amie up doing research, then he and Sam went to visit the dead girl's mother. Mrs. Miles took them to her daughter, Casey's room so they could look around.

"We're…very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Miles," Sam said, his voice low and soothing. "You mentioned Casey had no known enemies. What about at home? Anything unusual you may have noticed? Uh…Electricity acting up or lights…flickering? TV on the fritz?"

Mrs. Miles didn't hesitate to answer or even seem surprised at the question. "No, no fritzing. No cold spots, either," she replied.

Dean turned to look at the mother. "Sorry," he commented. "Out of curiosity, uh…why do you mention cold spots?"

The girl's mother explained that some Supernaturalists had called her and since the police had found nothing, they were coming to take a look around.

Dean glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye. He dreaded asking the next question, because he was pretty sure he knew the answer. "And did these Supernaturalists give you a name?" he finally asked, the irritation obvious in his voice.

The answer to the question was definitely the one he had been dreading. After once again giving Mrs. Miles their condolences and exiting the house, they returned to the car, Dean slamming the Impala door a little harder than normal. "I swear to God…" he mumbled under his breath. "I don't believe this." He started the car and made a U-turn on the wide street and headed back toward the center of town. "Keep your eyes open for that van," he ordered his brother.

They drove through town slowly. When Sam spotted the vehicle they were looking for, he instructed Dean where to turn and park. Dean slid the car into a parking spot and stepped from the car. As he approached the van, he could practically hear the damn Ghostfacers theme song playing in his head.

He exchanged a glance with Sam and nodded toward the restaurant. They hurried inside. Dean wanted to coax these two idiots out of town so they could figure out what the hell was killing people. And he didn't like the fact that Amie was still alone at the motel. He was anxious to get back to her.

Dean stepped inside the restaurant and glanced around. Sam tapped his shoulder and pointed to a table against the wall. Harry and Ed sat in the booth, talking. They headed straight for them, sliding into the open seats, Dean next to Ed and Sam next to Harry. Dean noticed that they look just as annoyed as he felt.

"Ah, the Winchesters," Harry muttered sarcastically. "Yay."

"Says nobody," Ed chimed in.

"Ever," Harry finished.

Dean could barely contain his anger. "Alright, shut up and listen. This is how it's gonna go. You two clowns are gonna get in the mystery machine outside, and you're gonna leave town or I'm gonna put holes in your knees."

Harry rolled his eyes and Dean suspected that Ed was doing the same next to him. He was about to add more when they were interrupted by a skinny waiter asking if the he and Sam wanted anything. Dean asked for the bill. He noticed a brief exchange between the waiter and what looked like his boss that did not appear to be friendly, but he was too busy worrying about getting the Ghostfacers out of town to worry about an inconsequential argument in some small town restaurant.

Harry looked between Dean and Sam. "Ahh, first of all, you guys don't scare us," he stated.

"Not at all," Ed agreed.

Harry lifted his shirt. "Say hola to my little pistola," he said, showing Sam and Dean the tiny pistol he had tucked into the front of his pants.

Dean was getting more and more annoyed with every word that left Harry's mouth. "Am I supposed to be impressed with that treasure trail or the lady gun you got hiding in your, uh, pants there?" he asked.

"Uh, both?" Harry replied. "Look, whether you like it or not, we are handling this situation."

Ed nodded in agreement, mumbling "Yup" as he did.

"Really?" Dean asked.

"Mm-hmm," Harry agreed.

"'Cause I see a couple of fame whores who are pointing their camera at a mom who just lost her kid," Dean shot back.

"Guys, we are investigators, and we have every right…" Ed interjected.

"No. No you don't," Dean interrupted. "You know why? 'Cause you're just gonna get in our way."

"Or you're gonna get somebody killed," Sam added.

"That's right," Dean said. "So you can either walk out of here…or crawl. Up to you."

He and Sam continued exchanging words with Ed and Harry for the next few minutes, until Dean had had enough. He was beyond annoyed.

"I will shoot you. Bitches," he finally growled.

Sam glanced at him and Dean knew he understood his frustration. "Like we were saying, you were just going, right? Great."

The two of them got up and left the Ghostfacers in their booth. Dean felt like he couldn't leave fast enough. He seriously felt like shooting somebody. He yanked open the door to Baby and climbed in. He wanted to get back to Amie, he hated being away from her.

* * *

He and Sam talked strategy on the way back to the motel. First and foremost, they needed to figure out what they were dealing with, seeing as how the damn Ghostfacers insisted that it wasn't an ordinary ghost. They didn't have much to go on, just a picture.

Dean parked Baby outside their motel and hurried inside and down the hall to their room. He tapped twice before unlocking the door; he wanted Amie to know it was him opening the door, so she wouldn't shoot him. He slipped his key in the door and opened it slowly. He stuck his head in to see Amie seated on the couch, one hand on the gun next to her leg, the other on her laptop.

"Hey baby," he smiled.

"Hi," she said, returning his grin.

He moved to her side as Sam stepped in behind him, closed and locked the door. He leaned over her and kissed her, enjoying the taste of coffee and mint lip gloss on her mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed, briefly resting his head against hers. Amie reached up and placed a hand on his face, her fingers brushing across the stubble on his cheek.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I'm fine." He kissed her again.

Dean saw Sam pull out his laptop and sit at the table. Within seconds, he had the browser open and he was searching for any reason the Ghostfacers would have come to this particular town. Dean slipped his suit jacket off and threw it on the couch, then he rolled up the shirtsleeves of his white dress shirt.

"Uh…Dean?" Sam said.

"Yeah?" he replied, his hand dropping to caress Amie's hair.

"Ed and Harry wrote a book," Sam answered.

"What?" he uttered, surprised.

"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler? Those Ghostfacer guys? What the hell? Are they here?" Amie asked.

Dean nodded and Amie eyes widened in surprise. "So they wrote a book?" she prompted.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Uh, "The Skinny on Thinman" by America's foremost Supernaturalists." He pointed to his laptop, the cover of the book pictured on the screen.

"What the hell's a Thinman?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. Um…" Sam muttered as he pulled up a black and white picture of a person running with the same figure from Casey's selfie in the background. "Whoa. Check that out, though. That does kind of look like whatever was behind Casey Miles, right?"

"Or Garth if somebody shaved his face off," Dean joked.

Sam spent a couple of seconds typing before he spoke. "Here we go. Uh, "Thinman—an urban legend started on the World Wide Web—lurks in the background of his victim's lives until he is ready to kill them," he explained.

"Yeah, because everything started on the internet is true. Like, uh, oh, the shark attacking a helicopter – they write a book on that one too?" Dean asked.

"Dude, real or not, thousands of people have posted to the site," Sam argued. "It's like Thinman is the new Bigfoot or something."

"Or Thinman is just a ghost with a brand name," Dean muttered.

"You saying that 'cause you really think it's a ghost or because you don't like the Ghostfacers?" Sam asked, obviously irritated.

"Hey, don't forget – we hit EMF in Casey's room," Dean reiterated.

Sam nodded. "Right, but the house was next door to power lines, which can affect the read," Sam reminded him.

Dean sighed in frustration. "A girl died in a locked room, Sam – spells 'ghost' right there."

"Maybe it got in there before it was locked up," Sam theorized. "Who knows, Dean? But how can people all over the world see the same ghost? Spirits don't exactly hop around."

"I know that," Dean replied. "But right now the veil is all kinds of screwed, okay? Ghosts could be popping up anywhere."

"Wait, what?" Amie asked. "What do you mean, the veil is screwed up?"

Dean hung his head. He forgot Amie didn't know anything about the veil. She was sitting forward on the couch, her elbows on her knees, and a curious expression on her face. He rubbed a hand across his face. He was afraid he knew where this conversation was going. He sat on the coffee table in front of her and took her hands in his.

"Since Metatron closed the gates of Heaven, not only are the angels being kept out, but so is everyone who has died," he explained. "Those people, they're trapped in the veil, with nowhere to go." He rubbed his thumbs across the tops of her hands as they started to shake.

"So, umm…" Amie started, then stopped. She blew out a shaky breath. "How long has it been like that?"

"A while," Dean heard Sam say from behind him.

"Before Mary Grace died," Dean whispered.

"So my baby is trapped, somewhere. Alone," she managed to choke out. "Oh my God, Dean, are you kidding me?" She swiped at the tears sliding down her cheeks. "Is there anything we can do?" she pleaded.

Dean shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Not that I've been able to come up with anyway."

Amie nodded her head. She pulled her hands out of Dean's and stood up. "Excuse me," she mumbled, then hurried into the bathroom. Dean watched her go, wishing there was something he could say or do to make it better. But he knew there was nothing that would help; he'd gone through the same thing when he'd come to the realization that his daughter was most likely trapped and he couldn't do anything to help her. Amie just needed time.

Dean stood up, pulled his laptop from his bag and sat at the other table.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"I'm checking the local deaths to see if there's any candidates for ghosts," Dean replied.

"But what about Amie?" Sam asked.

Dean glanced toward the bathroom. "She'll be fine," he answered. "Let's work the case."

He and Sam worked quietly for the next several minutes. Dean found some information on a few unnatural deaths, but nothing that could be tied back to Casey Miles. Sam was able to find some stuff about the Thinman, most notably that some unexplained deaths were pinned on him after a photo emerged of the victims with him in the background.

Amie came out of the bathroom, gave a quick, though insincere smile to Dean, then sat on the couch and picked up her laptop.

"What are we looking at?" she asked.

"Sam was explaining a bit more about the Thinman lore," he noted, then turned his attention back to his brother.

"I'm pretty sure the mysterious deaths can be chalked up to non-supernatural causes," Sam continued. "That and, honestly, most of these photos look pretty fake."

"Even Casey's?" Dean inquired.

"Except Casey's," Sam said, shaking his head. "Casey's photo wasn't doctored. Whatever was behind her was really there."

"Okay, well, that doesn't make any sense. How could something be both real and fake at the same time?" Dean wondered.

Sam shrugged. "Well, a girl is dead and that's about as real as it gets."

"Alright, so the last thing she did was took a photo on her phone," Dean said. "How did that photo end up online?"

"No clue. It was originally posted to a Thinman fan forum, but the I.P. address was blocked," Sam responded.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. This thing has fans?" Dean pondered the possibilities. "Of course it does. Okay, well, then somebody wanted this photo on the internet, and I'm guessing that the ghost didn't hop online to post it."

"We need to get that phone," Amie interjected. "It has to be with her things in evidence at the police station. We need to go get it."

Dean rose from his seat at the table. "Well, then, what are we waiting for, let's get a move on."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note: This chapter relies heavily on episode 9.15 Thinman, written by Jenny Klein and directed by Jeanott Szwarc. If the dialogue seems familiar, that's why. Obviously, tons of spoilers!**_

**Chapter Eleven**

Amie decided not to go with the boys to the police station. She wanted to be alone, especially after finding out her daughter was most likely trapped in the veil with no hope of moving on. She was also slightly pissed that Dean hadn't told her about it, it was definitely something she deserved to know. She was discovering more things he was hiding from her every day. It was really frustrating and it was becoming a sticking point between the two of them. She was finding it hard not to be angry with him on an almost constant basis. He needed to be honest with her and stop the lying and deception or they were going to fall apart again.

She had been lying on the couch for nearly an hour, her brain in overdrive, trying to wrap her head around everything that was happening. She needed to try to understand exactly what was going on with Dean, so she pulled up Google on her laptop and typed in "Mark of Cain." Of course all the biblical references immediately popped up. She clicked on a few, not liking what she was reading. It was a curse, a burden for the one who bore it. Unfortunately, none of what she read could give her a clear picture of what exactly the Mark was doing to Dean. And he, of course, wasn't talking. And she had no one way of getting him to talk. She felt helpless.

Just then the door to the motel opened and Dean and Sam walked through. Dean dropped a bag of fast food and a brown paper bag on the table, slipped off his jacket, then came to sit next to Amie on the couch. She shut her laptop before he could see what she'd been looking at. She leaned over and set it on the small coffee table.

Dean flung his arm over the back of the couch behind her and laid his hand on her shoulder. He rested his lips against her temple, kissing her lightly. "Hey baby," he whispered.

"Hey," she replied, turning her head to kiss him full on the lips. "What did you guys find out?"

"Photo was posted from Casey's phone at 2 a.m., but the coroner pegged the time of death at midnight. So somehow it was posted _after_ she died," he explained. "And of course, the damn Ghostfacers have the sheriff's deputy convinced it was probably this Thinman thing." Dean leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes for a brief second, then he seemed to startle awake. "Let's eat something," he said, pulling Amie to her feet and dragging her to the table.

Amie sat at the table between the boys, nibbling at the messy burger and chili cheese fries Dean had brought her. She didn't have much appetite, but since Dean was watching her closely, she did her best to eat what she could. He knew she had a tendency to not eat when she was upset. When she couldn't stomach another bite, she pushed her food away and rested her head on her folded arms. She was exhausted, the emotions of the day catching up with her.

She felt Dean's large hand rubbing up and down her back, his touch soothing her like nothing else could. She stood up and slipped into his lap, her head nestled against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her head. She closed her eyes and relaxed, drawing comfort from him. She let the sound of his voice as he talked with his brother flow over her, calming her. She felt her eyes grow heavy, sleep overcoming her. She finally let herself go, Dean's warmth surrounding her.

Several hours later, Amie woke up alone in the motel's full-size bed. She stayed on her side, straining to see in the dark room. She could just make out a large shadow seated on the couch across the room. She let her eyes adjust until she was able to see Dean, a glass in his hand. She could also see a bottle on the table and as she watched, he leaned forward and refilled his glass from it. She watched him for several minutes, but he only moved when he needed to refill his glass, which was at least three times.

Without thinking, she slipped out of the bed, noticing for the first time that Dean must have removed her jeans, because she only had on a t-shirt and underwear. She pulled the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders then she padded across the room in her bare feet until she stood in front of him. She didn't say a word, just took the glass from his hand and set it on the table before straddling him and sitting on his lap, facing him. He rested his hands on her waist, squeezing it gently. Amie ran her hand up and down his forearm, feeling the Mark under her hand as she did. She placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth, her tongue flicking out briefly to lick at his lower lip.

Dean sighed and pushed the blanket to the floor, then his hands slid up her back until he was grasping her head, his fingers tangling in her long red hair. They kissed, gently at first, but eventually their lips were crushed together, tongues piercing each other's mouths, their breathing heavy and fast. Dean turned, pulling Amie with him as he stretched out on the couch, never breaking the kiss, until she was lying underneath him, his hips nestled between her legs. She ran her hands up and down the taut muscles of his back, his weight not bothering her. He held her head as he kissed her, his fingers brushing through the soft strands of her hair.

They laid together on the couch, no agenda, no words, just the two of them, connecting in a way only they could. Amie craved this closeness and she knew Dean did as well. Traveling as frequently as they did, staying in cheap motels, more often than not sharing a room with Sam, they didn't always get the chance to just be a couple. As they were well aware, the life of a hunter wasn't easy, and that bled into everything, including their relationship. They needed this, the chance to just be close like a normal couple—no hurried sex while Sam was out getting food, no sneaking off in the Impala to catch a few minutes alone—just cuddling on the couch.

After a while, Dean reached behind him and pulled the blanket that had fallen to the floor over them. He turned so Amie's back was against the couch, their arms still wrapped around each other. She laid in his arms, just looking into those emerald green eyes that could see into the very depths of her soul.

"I love you," she whispered.

Dean didn't say anything, just nodded his head and kissed her yet again. Eventually, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed as he drifted to sleep. It was the first time in weeks that she'd actually seen him sleep. She suspected he hadn't been sleeping at all and he was trying to hide it from her. He wasn't very good at it, though.

She brought a hand up and ran it across the stubble on his cheek. She noticed his face relax as she touched him, the worry lines between his eyebrows smoothing out. She placed a gentle kiss against his throat, then closed her eyes, hoping sleep would take her as well.

* * *

The morning started with a quick stop for breakfast at a local donut shop, after Sam received a call from Deputy Norwood telling him there had been another murder. Amie had decided to tag along this time, clothing herself in her FBI garb – a suit with a skirt and jacket, blouse and high heels. When she went with the boys as an FBI agent, she generally played herself off as the agent-in-training to their veteran agents. It usually worked well, especially with the local police, as they tended to be a bit more accommodating to a new, inexperienced agent who also happened to be a woman.

Dean parked in front of the diner where the dead body had been found. "Isn't this the place we were at yesterday?" he asked Sam, who nodded in agreement.

"Alright, let's find out what's going on," he said, opening Amie's door so she could get out. He kissed her lightly on the temple before turning to go into the diner, all business.

Deputy Norwood met them as soon as they came through the door. Amie quickly scanned the restaurant, her eyes coming to rest on Ed and Harry, the Ghostfacers she'd heard so much about. She saw Dean cringe when he spotted them.

"Agents, thanks for coming," Deputy Norwood said.

"Hi," Amie said, sticking her hand out for the deputy to shake. "I'm Agent Nicks, special agent in training working with Agents Frey and Walsh." Norwood shook her hand, his eyes sliding up and down her body as he did. Fortunately for him, Dean's attention was fixed on the Ghostfacers or he would have gotten an earful about that, if not a fist to the face.

"What are these two crapshoots doing here?" Dean asked, nodding toward Ed and Harry.

"I figured it wouldn't hurt to go a little 'Medium,' you know?" Norwood replied. "Uh…two counties over, folks were combing the place for a poor little dead boy back in August. The cops let a psychic do her thing. Shish, bang, boom – found a body a day later."

"Uh-huh," Dean muttered. "Excuse me." He crossed the restaurant to where Ed and Harry were filming the dead body. Amie watched him; she could tell he was irritated, it was clear in the way he held his shoulders and the way he stalked across the diner.

"Is there any uh, security-cam footage?" Sam asked the deputy.

"Uh, yeah, just…" he trailed off as he gestured for Sam to follow him.

Amie hung back and watched Dean. He had walked up to the Ghostfacers, smacking Harry on the butt to get his attention. The three of them were exchanging words, though she couldn't hear what they were saying. Dean had his back to her while Ed and Harry were heatedly speaking. She watched them until Deputy Norwood looked up from the security footage he was reviewing with Sam.

"Fellas, you want to see this," he said.

Amie joined Dean, followed by Ed and Harry. Sam waited until they were all standing where they could see, then he said, "Alright, check it out."

Sam replayed the footage of the Thinman stabbing the restaurant manager, a guy named Trey. One minute the security camera caught him in the parking lot, then seconds later he was in the restaurant, slashing Trey's throat. Ed and Harry each let out a mumbled 'whoa' when the footage finished playing.

"Alright, so how did he jump from the parking lot to the diner?" Dean asked. "The doors were locked?"

Deputy Norwood nodded. "The footage shows Trey locked them ten minutes before."

"Locked. Not locked. It doesn't matter. Everyone knows Thinman can teleport," Harry asserted.

"I didn't even get a blip on my EMF," Ed added.

"So, maybe it's not a ghost," Dean muttered reluctantly.

"Okay, uh…we're gonna go," Ed suddenly spat out. "Uh, good work deputy, agent. Let's go. Let's go, man."

The Ghostfacers quickly gathered their things and left in a rush. Amie watched them go, confused as to why they had been in such a hurry to leave.

Dean motioned to the tape. "See it again," he ordered.

They watched the tape a couple more times, all three of them intent on what was happening on the screen. They spent over an hour talking to some of the people who had known Trey and trying to find anything useful in and around the restaurant.

Hours later, they were no closer to finding what had killed Casey and Trey than they had been the day before. They'd finally made their way back to the motel, where they had ordered food and changed out of their FBI suits. Sam and Dean were sitting at the table, the security camera footage running on Sam's laptop, while Amie was across the room on the couch, reading through the Thinman fan forums. She wasn't really paying attention to their discussion, but it sounded like it had something to do with Sam jumping off of a shed because he thought he was Batman and Dean had to take him to the emergency room because he'd broken his arm. She chuckled to herself; she loved hearing the boys talk about their childhood, even if it had been unconventional to say the least.

A knock at the door interrupted whatever had been going on between the boys, but before Dean could take more than two steps, Ed Zeddmore burst through the door.

"Come on in," Dean snapped, exasperated.

"I got to tell you guys something important and then the case is yours," Ed explained. He crossed the room and sat on the end of Sam's bed. He spoke quietly at first, so quietly that Amie could barely hear what he was saying, so she finally stood up and crossed the room, standing between the brothers as she listened. What she heard shocked her.

"Harry was gonna leave, so I needed to give him a reason to stay. I…I made up Thinman," he blurted.

"So you're saying that this crap is actually crap?" Dean asked.

Ed shrugged. "One old photo of a butler, a lot of Photoshop later, and I posted on one of the horror forums under 'anonymous.' And it blew up. Yeah. I only faked one case for us, and then we're packing up to go home when somebody posted a sighting of Thinman, so…we went after it, and that's how the Thinman became a crowdsourced legend."

Amie watched Dean as Ed and the boys talked, while he watched Sam. She knew there was something unspoken going on, but she wasn't exactly sure what it was. Something had happened between Dean and Sam while she had been gone and it was something neither of them would talk about. Sometimes things bubbled close to the surface, ready to erupt, like right now. When she heard Sam say 'Secrets ruin relationships' she knew that somewhere along the line Dean had kept something from Sam, something big. Something that had put a serious strain on their relationship. The question was, would she ever find out what it was?

"Well, he's – he's not here. Uh, he's – he's out in the woods, uh, searching for Thinman," Ed muttered.

Sam looked furious. "Okay, because Thinman, or whatever the hell this thing is, has killed two people and now Harry is in the woods alone."

Ed was saying something else, but Amie and the boys were grabbing their things and heading for the door. He quickly followed them, climbing into the back seat of the Impala while the three of them were in the front. He directed them to the last place he had seen Harry, a group of trees behind a grocery store.

Dean turned into the parking lot, nearly hitting Harry as he sprinted across it. Dean slammed on the brakes, practically sending Amie into the dashboard. He threw Baby into park and was out of the car within seconds. Amie slid out the driver's side door just as Sam and Dean caught Harry as he collapsed to the ground.

Amie pulled a first aid kit out from under the seat and hurried to where the boys were sitting with Harry. Once she was there, Dean stood up and took off into the woods. She glanced his direction, immediately concerned that he was going off alone. Sam cleared his throat, pulling her attention back to Harry and the wound on his chest. She helped Sam clean it and wrap it.

"Too tight?" Sam asked.

Harry shook his head. "Nope. No, I'm good. I'm good."

"Yeah?" Sam asked.

"You might need stitches," Amie said.

"I'm good," Harry insisted. "All right. I think I'm just gonna have to staple it when we get back to the motel." He turned to Ed. "We were right, Ed! Thinman's real!"

"Yeah," Ed said quietly.

Amie and Sam exchanged a look. Just then, Dean came running back from the woods. Amie hurried over to him, relieved to see him back in one piece. She took his hand, clutching it between both of hers. He gave her a reassuring squeeze before speaking.

"Some fresh tire tracks back over there. I took some photos," he stated, showing them his phone.

Harry looked confused. "What for?" he asked curiously.

"Because that car might belong to whoever knifed you," Dean sighed, exasperated.

"Well, whoever cut me was Thinman, and Thinman doesn't drive," Harry explained as if speaking to a child. "It was Thinman, jackass! I mean, I shouldn't have to connect the dots for you guys. I figured, you know, you're both intelligent, m-maybe."

Amie, along with Sam and Dean, looked pointedly at Ed, who looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Um, Harry," Ed said quietly.

"What?" Harry swung around to look at his fellow Ghostfacer.

Dean tugged on Amie's hands and they walked a few yards away from Ed and Harry, Sam following close behind. "Let's give 'em a minute," he said.

Amie watched the exchange between the two friends over Dean's shoulder. "It doesn't look like it's going well," she whispered.

"I'm sure it's not," Sam surmised. "Lies never lead to anything good." He shot a quick look at Dean, one his brother didn't notice, but Amie certainly did. What the hell was going on between these two?

* * *

"I think I found something," Amie said. "Come look at this and tell me what you think."

Dean was across the room, sitting on the bed, his laptop open in front of him. He glanced at Amie when she spoke, then grabbed his phone and crossed the room. He leaned over her, his arm automatically sliding around her waist as his head rested on her shoulder.

"What do you got, baby?" he asked.

"This looks like the tread on those tires, doesn't it?" she asked, pointing at the screen of her laptop.

Dean pulled up the picture he'd taken of the tire tracks in the woods. He compared it to the picture on his phone. "Yeah, that looks about right," he said. "Okay, so what kind of car are they made for?"

Amie typed a few key terms into the search engine she was using, while Dean stood behind her, his breath blowing against the sensitive skin under her ear and his hand hot against her waist. He was making it difficult to concentrate. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of desire pooling in the pit of her stomach. When the results popped up on the screen, he reached his other arm across her to point at the screen, the warmth of his body completely enveloping her as his hard, muscular chest pressed against her back, his heart beating a staccato under his layers of clothing. This time she took a shallow breath, afraid if she didn't she would breath in the scent of Dean and then she would be lost, unable to control whatever she did next.

"That's it. Those tires were only made for one kind of car, a 1989 Geo Metro," he concluded. "I'll call that sheriff's deputy, figure out if there are any cars like that in town, find out where. I'll get Sam and we'll go check it out." He kissed the top of her head. "Stay here. We'll be back," he ordered as he grabbed his jacket and gun and headed for the door.

Before she could even utter a word, Dean was out the door. "Dammit," she muttered under her breath. She did not like staying behind at the motel, but Dean apparently didn't give a shit. She stood up and stretched, checking the clock. She was going to need some caffeine if she planned on staying awake. She closed her laptop, slipped on her boots and grabbed her jacket, automatically shoving her gun in the inside pocket. There was a coffee machine at the end of the hall; the coffee sucked but it was strong and would definitely keep her awake.

She'd just stuck the lid on her cup after it came out of the machine, then started back to her room when Ed and Harry came out of their room. They stopped abruptly when they saw her.

"Oh, hey, uh, Amie, right?" Harry said. "You're Dean's girlfriend?"

"Something like that," she smiled.

"Why aren't you with him?" Ed asked.

She shrugged. "I decided to stay here," she lied. Amie looked between the two Ghostfacers, not liking the way they were acting. Something was up. "Where are you two headed?" she inquired.

They exchanged an uncomfortable look. "We're…um…we're going after Sam and Dean," Harry finally answered. "Ed heard where they're going and we decided we should go and help clean up our mess."

"Really?" she said. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. You guys have no idea what you might be going up against." She paused for a second, her thoughts churning. Dean would be pissed, but she really didn't care. "I'll go with you."

"Um, no," Harry laughed. "I think we'll be fine without your help." He turned to go, gesturing for Ed to follow him.

Amie stepped in front of them. "Look, I'm going with you, like it or not. I've been hunting for years, with _and_ without the Winchesters. I can help."

Ed and Harry exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. In unison, they nodded their agreement. Amie smiled and followed them to their van. Harry opened the door for her, allowing her to climb into the front seat while he climbed in the back.

"I heard Dean say that the car belonged to a guy who works night security at a mill on the north side of town," Ed said. "That has to be where they went." He pulled into traffic, then made a quick u-turn.

Amie tried Dean's phone several times as they drove toward the mill, but she didn't get an answer. She wasn't really surprised, he often turned his phone off when he was hunting. She tucked her phone back in her pocket, hoping that was the only reason he wasn't answering.

Ed parked a couple hundred yards from the entrance to the mill. Amie could see the Impala parked not far from the deputy's car, but she didn't see any sign of the boys. She was out of the van before Ed could turn it off, hurrying to the main door. She grabbed the door handle and when she realized it was unlocked, she opened it and stepped through. She looked around, examining every inch of the area, her ears tuned to any sound, her eyes looking for any hint as to where the boys might be. She knelt down, her fingers tracing the ground.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Drag marks," she explained, pointing to the area in front of the door. "Something was dragged from here. Or someone." She pulled her gun as she stood up. "Come on, but for God's sake, be quiet."

The words 'be quiet' were barely out of her mouth when the door they'd come through slammed shut. Harry shrugged, mouthing an apology. She rolled her eyes, then slid against the nearest wall, trying to keep to the shadows. She gestured to them to do the same, then pointed to herself, then down a short hallway. When she received a nod in acknowledgment from Ed, she sprinted silently down the hall.

The mill was dark, just a few emergency lights every few yards. Amie searched every room down the short hallway, but she didn't find anything. After she checked the last room, she started back down the hall. Ed and Harry weren't anywhere to be seen. She spun in a circle in frustration, her gun at her side.

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath.

That was when a foot connected with her back, shoving her into a table full of tools. The edge of the table slammed into her gut, knocking the wind out of her. She slipped to the floor, struggling to catch her breath. Just as she made it to her knees, a fist connected with her chin, sending her back to the floor. Rather than get up again, she slumped over, feigning unconsciousness. She tucked her gun under her body, so whoever had attacked her couldn't see it, waiting for them to finish what they had started. After a couple a minutes, she opened her eyes the tiniest bit. She was alone, but she could hear male voices moving away from her.

"Leave her, she's out cold. We can come back for her in a minute," someone who sounded an awful lot like the sheriff's deputy said. "Let's find the other two and just deal with all of them at once."

Amie waited another couple of minutes until she was sure that the men weren't coming back before getting to her feet. She gingerly swiped a hand across her mouth, leaving blood on her fingertips. She tightened her grip on her gun and hurried down the hallway, moving quietly on the tips of her toes. She could hear the voices just ahead, but rather than follow them, she gave them a wide berth, hoping to find Sam and Dean first.

She crossed a large room, discovering a large tapestry decorated to look like a forest, hanging from the ceiling. There was a chair in front of it, a pair of empty handcuffs dangling from it, and a camera set to record pointed at the chair.

"What the hell?" she said to herself, hurrying across the room to get a better look. She stopped in front of the camera, her eyes darting around, confused as to what she was seeing. Just then an arm slid around her throat and a hand covered her mouth. She felt herself being dragged backward, but before she could even begin to struggle, a familiar, raspy voice whispered in her ear.

"Shhh, it's me," Dean said. He released her and she immediately turned and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him sloppily on the lips. Then she pulled away and punched him as hard as she could on the arm.

"Ow, baby, what the hell?" he whispered, rubbing his arm.

"You scared the hell out of me!" she replied. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "How did you get here? And what the hell is this?" he asked, his fingers skimming the burgeoning bruise and cut on the corner of her lip.

"Ed and Harry," Amie explained. "They followed you, I tagged along. Except I don't know where they are." She touched the corner of her mouth with her tongue, flinching in pain as she did. "Someone sucker punched me. And I swore I heard Deputy Norton."

Dean nodded. "You did," he acknowledged. He quickly explained what had been happening in the small town. Just as he was finishing, they heard a shuffling sound from the other side of the room. Dean immediately stepped in front of her, automatically shielding her from danger.

Deputy Norwood was talking, something about letting someone live to tell their story, but now they are going to kill them so no one would know about Thinman being their brainchild. Amie peered between Sam and Dean to see Norwood and Roger from the restaurant walking with Ed and Harry. Amie just had time to hear Roger say 'no' when he saw the empty chair in front of the tapestry before Sam and Dean attacked.

Dean grappled with Roger, fighting over the knife. As Amie watched, he gained control and without even hesitating, Dean sunk the knife into Roger's chest, killing him. His eyes were blank, almost dead and there wasn't a lick of emotion on his face. Amie felt a chill run down her spine.

Sam knocked Norwood to the ground, but he drew his gun and pointed it at the younger Winchester. Both Dean and Amie moved to step in, but before they could do anything, Ed stepped in front of Sam, right into the path of the gun.

"Wait, no," Ed shouted. "No! No! No, look. Look at me. This is all my fault. Okay? It's all my fault."

"I got enough bullets for both of you," Norwood grinned.

"Ed, no!" Amie yelled.

Just then a shot echoed through the room. Norwood hit the ground, a bullet wound directly to the chest. Amie turned to see Harry holding a gun, smoke curling from the barrel, the smell of gunpowder filling their nostrils.


End file.
